Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [116]
Her mother stirred, shifting her legs toward the side of the bed. Tipper held her hand.
“No, Mother. You can’t go see.”
“Why not? It’s my house. I’ll send those ruffians out the way they came in and slam the door behind them.”
“Have you forgotten the cat?”
“Oh!” Lady Peg fell back against the cushy mattress. “I had.” She lay still for a moment. “I can’t see it from here. What’s it doing?”
“Staring into the hallway.”
“What do you suppose it’s thinking?”
Tipper’s eyes opened wide as she shook her head in tight, jerky movements. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s watching for anything that’s walking around instead of lying down.”
“Shh!” Lady Peg tightened her grip on Tipper’s hand. “Someone’s coming up the grand staircase.”
Bar Besta, Rayn, and Junkit shivered under the blankets. They rested against Tipper’s leg, and the bump in the bed looked suspicious. Tipper raised her knee to make a little tent to disguise their presence.
Rough voices from downstairs shouted various orders.
“Find the owner!”
“Kill anyone who gives you trouble.”
“Yarrah, raid the kitchen. We won’t starve tonight!”
“Capture one of those healing dragons.”
Through all the shouts, clatter, and bangs, Tipper heard clunking footsteps as someone big and burly reached the landing. She watched the cat tense, rippling muscles ready for a grand pounce. Holding her breath, she waited.
The cat charged, and from the hallway, a high-pitched scream silenced every other noise in the house. The thud of heavy boots coming up the stairs had sounded like a march. Going down the steps, the same feet reverberated like a rapid cadence on a drum. The panicked screech provided the tenor, and the growl of the cat, the bass.
Both Tipper and her mother sat up in bed. Rayn and Junkit fussed at Tipper for disturbing them. She mindspoke an apology. Bar Besta slipped out to curl around Lady Peg’s neck.
“Oh my,” said Lady Peg, “I hope he runs fast.”
“The cat or the soldier?”
“The soldier, of course.” She gave her daughter a disapproving glare. “Just because the man is ill-mannered doesn’t mean our staff should stoop to the same coarse behavior.”
“The cat isn’t an employee, Mother.”
“He’s a friend of a friend, and our friends are considerate and polite.”
Scales scraping across the wooden floor reminded the ladies that a snake also guarded Lady Peg’s bedroom. They fell back against the pillows and drew the blanket up to their chins. Bar Besta moved to the pillow between mother and daughter.
“I suppose,” said Lady Peg, “that being in bed, but sitting up, is not the same thing as lying down.”
“I think you’re right.”
They listened as chaos clashed below.
Lady Peg pressed her lips together. Crashes and bangs, shouts and shrieks, almost lured Tipper out of bed.
“I wish I could see what is going on,” she complained.
Her mother grasped her arm. “That snake is under the bed. I’m sure of it. We dare not put a foot to the floor.”
“I’m not terribly afraid of snakes.”
“I am.”
In the distance, a man’s strangled cry begged for help. “Get it off! Get-t-t it-t-t—awww—”
“That,” said Lady Peg, “is a man with a snake around his neck. Squeezing. The snake is squeezing.” She shuddered. “This is why I have told you so many times that your walks in the rain forest are dangerous. That could have been you with a snake around your neck. On another day, of course. Not today. But a day when you were ignoring my warnings and walking nonchalantly through Sir Beccaroon’s Indigo Forest.”
“The snakes in the forest are well-nourished. They don’t need a skinny emerlindian to feed on.”
“Tipper! You are not skinny. You are willowy and graceful.”
The commotion moved from the floor below to the courtyard in front of the mansion. Below Lady Peg’s bedroom window, someone ordered the soldiers to regroup and stand against the enemy.
“You men, circle around the wagon. Spears to the ready, men. Archers on the wagon, use the height to fend off this menagerie. We won’t be trounced by brainless creatures.”
“Brainless?” Lady Peg let out a most unladylike humph. “Even our