Dragonquest - Donita K. Paul [92]
“All I’m saying is the more Clem brooded about, the less I could communicate with him. It was like he went away in his mind long before he went on his rampage, knocking things down, and then flying off like he did.”
“Maybe it’s a sickness,” suggested the innkeeper. “Maybe you should take the matter to the wizard of the lake. What’s his name?”
One of the patrons rattled off, “Ham? Cram? Cam? Sam?”
“Whatever his name is, no one’s dealt with him in hundreds of years. He could have gone over to Risto like Crim Cropper and Burner Stox.”
“They didn’t ‘go over,’ man. They’ve always been evil,” said an older, well-dressed man sitting by himself in the corner. “None of you know your history. You must not despair. Wulder will send a champion. Paladin will surface and strengthen our defenses.”
“Empty promises, parson,” said the innkeeper. “What you speak of is not history but fable.”
Librettowit stood up. “I agree with the parson.” He turned to the innkeeper. “Identify for me, man, the duties of a parson.”
The man blustered, his eyes shifting around the room as if to find someone to help him answer. He snorted and put his hands on his hips. “He talks a lot and does little of anything.”
Librettowit stood straighter. “He thinks a lot and says little of anything until he knows what he is talking about.”
Several people laughed at the quick response. The innkeeper glared around the room, and the snickering ceased.
Librettowit took advantage of the silence. “A parson examines the books of Wulder. He breaks the passages down into components and analyzes the form, function, and ecclesiastic relationship of each part. He does not do this on his own, but with the guidance of Wulder Himself and under the tutelage of Paladin. And I will tell you, a community prospers in direct relationship to the number of parsons who adequately instruct the populace.”
“Bah,” said one of the men, a wealthy landowner by the look of him. “There you have it wrong, tumanhofer. Until recently Trese has led the country in economic prosperity. And we have few parsons. This parson here used to be a merchant, but when he handed his business over to his sons, he had too much time on his hands.”
A smile curved Librettowit’s lips. “He slowed down enough to assess what really is important. Wulder does not count a society wealthy by how many coins change hands. He measures by hearts filled with peace, satisfaction, and joy.”
“Oh, I see,” said the innkeeper. “You are a parson too.” He looked over the party at Librettowit’s table. “I should have known. It looks like you travel with some foreign monk and two noble squires, male and female, like the legend of Torse.”
“So you know the legend of Torse?” Librettowit’s smile grew even wider. “And why did Torse leave his castle and roam the countryside?”
Several in the room sniggered again.
“Got you there, Bickket,” said Farmer Spronder. “Torse found a great truth. He wanted to give it away, so he could go back to his castle and live the way he was accustomed. He took the monk with him, for it was he who first revealed the truth. Torse wanted to foist the monk off on some other household. And much to Torse’s dismay, the monk kept attracting worthy young people. But even when they took the truth out of Torse’s hands, the truth remained in Torse’s possession. It multiplied instead of diminishing.”
Librettowit nodded, the twinkle in his eye softening his ancient features. “This is true. And when did Torse find peace?”
A young man stood up from the table where he sat with much older men. “When he took the truth home with him and put it in a place of honor.”
The eager young man took a few steps forward. “May I go with your band of comrades?”
Librettowit strode forward, put his hand on the young man’s arm, and turned him toward the parson.
“Go to this man and learn. In the near future, there will be a great conflict between good and evil. At that time, Paladin will call for ones such as yourself to join the fight. You are of strong body. Prepare