Dragonquest - Donita K. Paul [94]
“Yes, he is. He looks like the moon, doesn’t he?”
A knock on the door woke the two sleeping comrades and four minor dragons. Bardon spoke from the hall.
“We’re leaving early this morning.”
“All right,” Kale called back.
The dragons nested on top of her and the covers. When she shifted, they flew off with grumbles voiced deep in their throats.
Toopka had to be prodded to get up and move. Kale hurried to dress and get both of them ready to go. The dragons crawled into their pocket-dens even before she put the moonbeam cape over her shoulders. After a bite of breakfast, the party of questers boarded the carriage in time to watch the sun rise over frost-covered fields.
Toopka stood behind Bruit’s bench and hung over Bardon’s shoulder. A big bump tossed her forward, but she caught herself by grabbing Bardon’s neck. He disengaged her with a swift movement and placed her in his lap. She snuggled into the warmth of his chest.
“We have a surprise,” she said, with a mischievous grin lighting her face.
Bardon roughed her hair. “What is it?”
“You have to guess.”
Bardon glanced back at Kale and then down at the little girl in his lap. He grinned at her. “This isn’t exactly fair, Toopka. Kale can’t keep secrets from me.”
“Will you mindspeak with me? Do you think I could learn how to do it? I mean, start it. I can answer when Kale talks to me in my mind, but I can’t start it.”
“After I see this new baby dragon, Toopka, I’ll mindspeak with you. But I don’t think you can learn to do it if Wulder hasn’t given you the gift.” He stood and stepped over the back of the driver’s perch.
Kale pulled out Ardeo as Bardon sat next to her.
“Oh no!” cried Toopka. “He’s dead!”
“No,” said Kale, but worry trembled her voice. “He’s not dead. He’s breathing.”
“But he’s ugly, and he’s not moving.” Toopka clutched Kale’s arm. Her eyes filled with tears.
Blotches of gray mottled the baby’s dull white skin. Kale stroked Ardeo’s side as he snored softly. Metta, Gymn, and Dibl squirmed out of their pocket-dens and gathered around the littler dragon.
“They say he’s all right. He’s just sleeping.” Kale reported the impressions she had from the minor dragons.
“But he’s ugly,” cried Toopka. “He looks like a cold lump of porridge.”
Ardeo stretched, yawning until his little mouth spread wide enough to cover the end of Kale’s thumb. His eyes blinked open, and he gazed around at his audience. He stood and stretched again, arching his back. Spreading his wings, he rocked back and forth on the palm of Kale’s hand.
Metta began to sing. Dibl did an uphill roll from Kale’s elbow to her neck, then hopped, flipped, and skipped on her head and shoulders. Gymn sprang into the air to dance above their heads.
Ardeo trilled and flew from Kale’s hand to her knee and back again. He then pounced onto Toopka, then Bardon, and darted back to Kale.
“He’s healthy enough,” said Bardon as Toopka clapped with glee. He turned to Kale. “Why were you worried?”
Last night he was beautiful. He looked like a dragon formed out of moonbeams.
“Well, he’s a little worse than plain in the sunlight. What does your book say about this grayish dragon?”
I haven’t looked it up yet.
Kale moved back from the circle of activity and reached into the hollow of her cape. The first book she pulled out was Training for Performance: An Overall Guide to Dragonkeeping. She laid it aside and searched again. This time she brought out The Care and Feeding of Minor Dragons. Resting the book on her crossed legs, she thumbed through the pages, looking for the list of colors.
“Here it is, Bardon.” She pointed to a paragraph near the end of the first chapter.
Bardon moved to sit beside her. He sat on a higher trunk and looked over her shoulder. Dibl landed on Bardon’s head. Kale read aloud.
“The dappled white is very rare. An unattractive color in strong light, the minor dragon produces radiance in shadows and darkness. Plainly, its talent is to light the way.”
Bardon chortled. “Obviously.”
Kale looked at the twinkle in Bardon’s blue eyes. “Obviously,” she repeated and laughed.