Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [25]
She didn’t hear the answer. The wind whistled and mixed with disconnected sounds as the wizard transported them from the forest to Ragar.
The whooshing and whirling stopped just before Hollee gave up her breakfast. Her first experience of traveling with the wizard had made her a bit queasy, but this passage had been extra rough.
“Oh dear, tut, tut.”
Hollee tensed for a moment, then scrambled to get out. She needed to see what had alarmed her wizard. As she moved, she felt Fenworth sit.
“Oh dear, oh dear.”
She popped out of the folds of his robe and gasped. They weren’t in Ragar. Hollee doubted they were even in Chiril. From their perch on a high cliff, an ocean stretched clear to the horizon. Gray waves tossed murky froth on a sandy shore to their left. And on the right, a small village of huts clustered among towering trees, the like of which Hollee had never seen.
“Tut, tut. That’s what I get for thinking of tangonut crème pie while whirling.”
9
Council Meeting
Beccaroon strutted through the elegant hallway, keeping to the side of the rug running down the center. His claws tripped him up when they caught in the pile of the beautiful carpet. Falling on his face didn’t appeal to him at any time. Doing so now would damage his ability to present a convincing argument to King Yellat.
The time had come to act, but his past experience with Yellat prepared him to expect opposition. All the appeals he had made for Lady Peg during her husband’s long absence had fallen on deaf ears. The king’s stubborn refusal to reinstate his daughter in his court had lasted for more than twenty years. Only the scheming of two madmen had forced the estranged members of the royal family to work together and ultimately achieve reconciliation.
Beccaroon stopped to gaze out the window, but the beautiful view did not have the usual soothing effect. His scowl deepened. Verrin Schope had come back with a wizard and a librarian in tow. The wizard claimed that their success in defeating the masterminds of corruption had been through the influence of the god of his country. The tales of their Wulder intrigued Beccaroon, but he wasn’t ready to dig deeper into this foreign concept.
He left the window and its beautiful view. Under the circumstances, having a powerful and omniscient god would be handy. He didn’t care to call upon Boscamon to stick his finger in this pie. A capricious god was worse than no god at all.
Sir Beccaroon turned the corner and saw that the king waited for him at the end of the corridor. The grand parrot recognized the obstinate set of the man’s jaw. As he approached the ruler of Chiril, he made his courtly bow.
The king nodded. “I just arrived myself. The others should be waiting for us in the council room. I trust your news is worthy of gathering them in such a hasty manner?”
“It is.” Beccaroon flicked away the doubt that fluttered through his mind. He had no reason to suspect his information was false. His sources were reliable. But he did question whether or not this council, under the influence of a “wait and see” ruler, would agree with him.
A footman opened a carved wooden door, and the king and the great parrot entered a richly appointed chamber. Verrin Schope, Paladin, and three court officials stood and acknowledged the king. Only the three men from King Yellat’s circle of advisors gave a full bow. The king went to his chair, which was larger and more ornate than the others. He sat and gave a signal for the rest to take their places around the oval table.
Then the king fixed his royal gaze upon Sir Beccaroon. “You called us together. You have information?”
Beccaroon inclined his head. “I do.”
He strolled to the other end of the table, covertly studying those assembled, trying to determine their receptiveness to this meeting. Verrin Schope drooped in his chair. He examined a piece of paper on the table where he rested his hands. The three advisors to the king sat straight, giving the appearance of preybirds lined up on a branch, eying the field and eager to be the first to