Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [17]
Tipper didn’t know what being an artist had to do with anything. Her expression must have said as much to the wizard.
“Unpredictable!” He shifted his glare to focus on Bealomondore. “You would think a man who’s undertaken the removal of a valued item from harm’s way would be willing—no, not willing, anxious—to transport that valuable item to a place where it can do some good.” He lifted one eyebrow and scrutinized Tipper. “Wouldn’t you?”
Memories swelled like a riptide over her peace. She sat up. “The statues.” She swung her legs off the couch.
“Exactly, my dear.” Librettowit came to sit next to her.
Some measure of relief came with the wizard’s librarian she had learned to trust. Often he was sensible when the others were merely loud.
“I thought we were safe here,” she said.
He nodded. “Somewhat. We must sort out the myths and the truth before we decide what is to be done with the statues.”
Librettowit pinched at his mustache with thumb and forefinger. “In Amara, tradition has it that kimens cannot be tracked.” He looked around the room at the kimens assembled. “Is that true?”
The kimens nodded.
Maxon stepped forward. “Yes, it is, but we’ve had disturbing reports of an unusual warrior in an enemy camp.”
A chair appeared next to the wizard, and he sat, taking off his hat and rubbing his hair. His hand dislodged several small creatures that ran down his robes and out the tent flap.
“We’ve met our fair share of unusual warriors,” said the wizard and clapped his pointed hat back on his head.
Librettowit ignored him. “The description of this man is more like a beast than one of the seven low races, but he speaks and wears clothes.”
Maxon cleared his throat. “He also growls and eats his food like a lion devours its prey, tearing the raw meat from the bone. He wears pants and a shirt, all right, but he also wears battle gear and carries a spear that he throws far distances with great accuracy.”
Librettowit nodded. “These are facts, not myth.”
Taeda Bel came close to Tipper and put her hands on the emerlindian’s leg. The kimen’s eyes rounded with fear. “He looked straight at me. He shouldn’t have known we were there. Maxon, Hollee, and I scouted the camp. I think he saw us all.” She shuddered. “They call him The Grawl. He’s not like other creatures, high race or low. He doesn’t belong in the animal kingdom either. He should not exist.”
Tipper placed her hand on her small friend’s back. She could think of nothing to calm Taeda Bel’s dread. Instead, she swallowed and looked at the serious faces surrounding her. At times she had seen a group of kimens together on market day, but in this small tent, around thirty of the dainty people watched her.
“So who do you report to about the things you find out? My grandfather? His commander of arms?” The kimens looked at each other, and when no one spoke, Tipper asked again. “Who?”
“It is our nature to keep an eye on things, especially in the Starling Forest. If we are to tell someone, we find out later.”
Tipper turned to Librettowit for an explanation.
The old tumanhofer shrugged. “In Amara, the kimens are very conscientious in their regard of Wulder. Here, they seem to take on the same duties without the close bond with their creator.” He shook his head in puzzlement. “I must study them and probe their history to find out what their function is in His design for Chiril.”
Taeda Bel’s happy smile returned to her face. “Hollee knows a lot. Her family is the keeper of tales for the village.”
“Who is Hollee?” Tipper asked.
The female kimen standing closest to the wizard stepped forward. “I am. I’ve been assigned to Wizard Fenworth.”
Even in the solemnity of the meeting, a few snickers escaped. Tipper caught two kimens exchanging a look that included rolling eyes. She bit her lip to keep from smiling. Being assigned to the rascally wizard would be an arduous task for any of the fun-loving kimens.
Bealomondore shifted in his chair. Tipper’s eyes widened as she took in the splendor of his garments. The cut of the clothing duplicated what he normally