Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [118]
Another change in his appearance resulted from a long, long soak in a tub of hot water. He was clean, really clean. He’d sent a hotel employee out to buy him some new clothes, and everything from his undergarments to his cravat smelled fresh and new. Being in Greeston helped. He’d sent the young man to his favorite haberdashery with a list. The clerks sent back clothing that not only suited his needs but also matched his style. They also sent a personal note saying they were delighted he had returned to the city.
The mirror reflected the old Bealomondore, the one who visited society’s matrons, ingratiating himself with his wit, charm, and talent. The tumanhofer examined his image more critically. He had changed. He looked more … robust. A wry grin twisted his lips. Who would have predicted that Graddapotmorphit Bealomondore would one day have hardened muscles?
He wondered if his father would notice the difference. Hardly! He hoped his father recognized him as his younger son and didn’t have him thrown out of his office when he realized this man was the boy he disliked so.
Bealomondore reached for his sword and began to buckle the belt around his waist. He stopped. Force of habit. He didn’t need to wear a weapon to meet with his father.
Putting the sword aside, he spoke to his dragon friends. “I’m off now, on the king’s errand. This shouldn’t take long.”
Det and Laddin lifted their heads, and Bealomondore felt a wave of reassurance pass to him.
“Right,” he said. “Thanks.”
His room was at the end of a hallway on the third floor. He counted the room numbers backward as he strolled toward the stairs. Stopping at the top step, he gazed downward. His breath caught in his throat, the staircase undulated, and he turned away, rushing back the way he’d come.
The dragons flew to him as soon as he banged open the door to his room. He collapsed on the only chair, covered his face with his hands, and planted his elbows on his knees.
Det sat on his shoulder while Laddin squirmed into the triangular space between Bealomondore’s arms and chest. The tumanhofer straightened, pulling the healing dragon closer, nestling him in his arms.
“I don’t know exactly what happened,” he explained. “I got dizzy, then I was compelled to come back for the Sword of Valor.”
He took several deep breaths, then stood. He put Laddin down on the bed, picked up the sword, and pulled it from its scabbard.
He chortled, not really amused at the script on the hilt. “A new message, ‘Reconciliation slices away drivel.’ And that is supposed to be comforting? Encouraging? Bah!”
He rammed the sword back in the sheath, noting how plain the hilt looked compared to the fancy lettering.
“I’m going,” he announced as he strapped on the Sword of Valor. “Hopefully I’ll get farther than the top of the stairs. You can come if you wish.”
Det and Laddin flew to him and perched on his shoulders.
“You’ll have to hide when we go in to see my father. He wouldn’t approve.”
Bealomondore grinned at the spectacle his father’s face brought up in his imagination. His father would be utterly shocked by the sight of minor dragons in his office. “That’s rather reassuring, makes our errand pale in comparison to the revelation that I’ve befriended dragons. No offense to you two, but my father is sensible to the extreme and doesn’t have a regard for friendship. He wouldn’t understand how valuable you are to me.”
He’d sought out a hotel in the business district of Greeston, so he had very little time on the short cab trip to worry about how this interview would go. Having the dragons and the sword reminded him that his life had changed considerably, and he had changed along with it.
He introduced himself to the secretary, who seemed unaware that Master Bealomondore had two sons.
Irritation strengthened the tumanhofer artist’s resolve.
After receiving permission from within the spacious office, the secretary