Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [102]
“Oh, forget it,” said Ephen. “What’s done is done.” He turned to address the men on the verge of flight. “Bury him, and do a good job of it. We don’t want him found.”
They jumped to obey. Avid still stood next to the body.
Ephen wiped his hand down his face as if to remove some horrid stain. “I’m going to find Groddenmitersay and give him the information we learned last night.”
“Take him with you,” said one of the men.
Ephen looked his brother over. “Yeah, you come with me, Avid.”
After Ephen and Avid rode off and while the other four men took turns digging, Beccaroon flew off on an errand of his own. He intercepted the carriage bringing Verrin Schope and Lady Peg from Ragar. The coachman pulled up as soon as he saw the parrot beside the road.
The couple sat facing each other in the opulent coach. Verrin Schope stuck his head out one window, and Lady Peg peered through the other.
“You’ve news,” said the wizard. He opened the door and stepped down to the road.
Sir Beccaroon nodded to Lady Peg. “Pardon me, Lady Peg, but I would like for your husband to sit on the roof with me for a while. We have some business to discuss.”
“Oh, please, Verrin Schope,” said the lady, “do go up instead of trying to talk with Bec here. I would try to understand, and that is something I really don’t want to do. Instead, I’ll sit here and compose a poem about our travels.”
Sir Beccaroon tilted his head and peered up at the carriage where Tipper’s mother could be seen through the window. “I’ve known you for many years, Lady Peg. How is it that I am unaware that you write poetry?”
“I don’t write poetry, Bec.”
“This is your first poem then?”
The look on her face told him he should have never responded to her first statement. A glance at her husband revealed the gentleman distracted by a fascinating tree growing next to the road. Fortunately, the good sculptor decided to take pity on his old friend.
Verrin Schope took his wife’s hand through the window and placed a courtly kiss on the soft knuckles.
“Compose away, sweet, sweet lily of my heart.”
Beccaroon flew to the top of the carriage, where Verrin Schope soon joined him. The driver gave the command to “Get on.”
As soon as the horses had gathered enough speed to produce a clattering that covered their lack of conversation, Verrin Schope mindspoke to his old friend.
“You’re upset about something.”
I missed seeing a murder this morning. I slept. If I’d been more vigilant, I could have saved his life.
“Tell me.”
Sir Beccaroon began with the first noises that came from below his perch, heralding the crew who would camp beneath him. The whole story took no more than ten minutes but changed the plan they were in the middle of executing.
“Going to Growder is no longer an option,” said Verrin Schope.
“I agree.”
“I’ll send someone else to encourage the men to enlist. Have you noticed how much better the people have been these last weeks? Fenworth has the statues together, and the mental unrest among the people has all but ceased. The good citizens of Chiril are rising to the challenge of defending their homes.”
Beccaroon tsked, shaking his beak. “King Yellat is still acting like he must punish someone for their original reluctance to rally ’round the cause.”
“He took it as a personal rejection of his authority. I doubt that even a victory would erase the sting of their noncompliance with his orders.” Verrin Schope stared at his hands folded together. White knuckles indicated his opinion of his father-in-law’s pride.
Beccaroon prodded the conversation back to the problem. “But we can’t do anything about that now.”
“Correct.” The wizard relaxed his grip and stretched his fingers. “We must endeavor to stop these people from informing their superiors of the statues and their value.”
“At least they don’t know where they are.”
Verrin Schope remained silent. Beccaroon watched his clever friend’s face. He knew exactly when a scheme was coming together in his mind by the pleasant smile that transformed his expression.
The wizard artist winked. “We shall need the talents