Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [120]
“You’re feeling better?” Bealomondore took Laddin from his father’s chest and held him.
Stubbornness crossed his father’s features, but he reluctantly admitted, “I do.”
“Father, you must not deal with enemies of the crown. In the end, the whole family will suffer.”
“I know that.”
His tone remained gruff, but Bealomondore glimpsed something different in the old man’s expression. Fear, maybe? He remembered the paralyzing fear that had almost gotten him killed in his first sword fight. Someone else had come alongside him to help him not only endure the terror but also survive the experience. He deemed it too soon to introduce Wulder, but perhaps his father needed his wastrel son to bolster his courage.
The thought made Bealomondore laugh scornfully at himself, but he managed to keep his ill-timed humor to himself.
“What can I do to help, Father? What is at the heart of this dilemma?”
Master Bealomondore sighed and sank deeper into the leather cushions of his chair. “Humiliation. Dishonor. Death.”
47
Encounter with Evil
Bealomondore studied his father’s despondent expression. “I think if you just quit selling to the enemy, the king will not act against you. You can stop and avoid this humiliation.”
Anger replaced his father’s dejection. “You don’t know anything!”
“I’ve been on the battlegrounds. I’ve spoken to the king. I believe I know a little more than nothing.”
“I’m dealing with tumanhofers loyal to King Odidoddex. Just like their king, they are willing to kill anyone who opposes them. I’m trapped.”
“Tell them there’s no more ore for them.”
“And have one of your sisters or your mother die in an ‘accident’?”
A ball of ice filled Bealomondore’s stomach. His mind shouted that his family could not be in danger over this business, but the look on his father’s face said they were.
Bealomondore withdrew to the other side of the desk. He sat in one of the large leather chairs where henchmen of the Baardack king had sat and threatened his family.
“How many do you deal with?” he asked.
“What?”
“How many Baardackians have come to this office? How many do we have to convince that you will no longer do business with them?”
“Aren’t you listening to me? I can’t say no to these people.”
“We’ll figure this out, Father.”
“You’re insane. What are we going to do? Bargain for who they’ll kill, one of your sisters or your mother?”
“Of course not. How many?”
The look from his father scorched Bealomondore’s heart, but the older man answered. “Four.”
“One in charge? Three ruffians?”
“Exactly. Mernantottencat is the leader, with another tumanhofer and two mariones to back him up.”
“We can handle them.”
“You are insane.”
“I’ll stand beside you.”
“And what? Fight them off with that piece of jewelry you call a sword?”
Bealomondore frowned and looked down to his side. The Sword of Valor had sprouted gems, big gaudy jewels of red, green, yellow, and blue.
He gasped and pulled the sword from its scabbard. The blade looked the same, but the inscription had changed. He tilted it to the light and read, “ ‘Look past the luster.’ ”
Master Bealomondore scowled. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t always know.”
“And what does that mean?”
“This is the Sword of Valor, given to me by the Wizard Fenworth. It increases my skill in battle, gives me messages I assume are from Wulder’s Tomes, although I haven’t had a chance to look them up, and apparently changes appearance. The jewels were not there before.”
“Poppycock. All poppycock.”
Years of experience with his parent gave Bealomondore no hope of winning a verbal contest. No sense in arguing. “Even so, I am prepared to stand beside you should you decide to cease dealing with the enemy.”
Master Bealomondore sighed, closed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair. His son waited.
“As I said, Graddapotmorphit, I am sick of myself. I feel that I should be humiliated. It’s what I deserve, but I fear the dishonor. The Bealomondore name has always stood with right and justice. I’ve let my family down.