Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [53]
Tipper took the bowl he handed her. “What did you do all afternoon while I slept?”
The tumanhofer glanced toward the hall and answered in hushed tones. “Tried to pry information out of those so-called farmers downstairs.” He pulled up a wooden chair. “Librettowit didn’t have any more success than I did, but we both agree those men aren’t farmers waiting for seed.”
“Did they refuse to talk to you?”
“No, they talked a great deal, but it was all stories, tall tales of life on a farm. Mice in the corn crib, raccoons raiding their crops, and weevils infesting their fields.”
Tipper scrunched her brow and tilted her head. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Well, first they monopolized the conversation, making sure we didn’t get a chance to ask questions. And second, we haven’t seen any corn crops. Librettowit says this isn’t the right climate or the right terrain to grow corn.”
“Did you get to ask any questions at all?”
“Librettowit did. I think he’s better at ferreting out information than I am.”
“What did he ask? What did they say?”
“He asked them if they’d seen any strangers lately.”
“And?”
“One man, who came in to inquire about deliveries, said Edrina Posh and her son, Danto, were the only strangers around. Seems they just bought the boat stop from the previous owners a couple of weeks ago.”
Tipper chewed and swallowed before asking another question. “That could be legitimate. But if they’re new, then they wouldn’t know if these men are truly farmers from the area. Did you ask them questions?”
Bealomondore nodded. “They were excessively busy, and that made an excellent excuse not to talk to us.”
The whole situation at this boat stop didn’t feel right to him. The men made him uneasy, but then the quest already had his teeth on edge.
Librettowit declared they were not on a quest, but their activities came together in the artist’s head as a quest. What else would you call carrying statues to safety, searching for clues about the enemy, and trying to locate Verrin Schope?
Bealomondore wanted to abandon the whole adventure and go paint somewhere. But first he would deliver this beautiful emerlindian into her father’s protective hands.
“Do you think you can travel tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yes, most definitely.” Tipper reached for the glass on the tray. “Rayn said I needed sleep. A person healing fast tires like a person pulling weeds. I know a lot about pulling weeds. That was about the only thing Gladyme would let me do in her kitchen garden.”
“It’s hard to picture you working.”
She harrumphed. “I washed clothes, changed beds, swept, and polished furniture. Do you remember the manor you found me in?”
“I was so excited about my chance to meet your father that it took a while for me to realize how shabby—” He felt his face burn. “I beg your pardon, Tipper.”
She laughed, and he sighed in relief.
Tipper reached across the table and touched his hand. “You didn’t worry much about offending me on our last quest.”
He carefully removed his hand from under hers. “Well, you were a bit of a pest back then, weren’t you?” He grinned at her, hoping she would take his comment in the context of a teasing brother. Her gasp turned into a ripple of laughter.
There. He’d cheered her up. Now he’d best leave before he said something tactless again. She befuddled his polished courtly air.
He stood. “Mistress Posh will probably come fetch your tray. Sleep well tonight. Tomorrow we’ll go on down the river.”
“You’re going to pull the raft again?”
“No, Librettowit found someone who will bring us two donkeys. This so-called farmer was willing to part with them for some hard cash.”
“If he’s not a farmer, how can he get donkeys?”
Bealomondore shrugged.
“Why are we going downstream?”
“Toward the village of Selkskin. Librettowit suspects a painter there is your father.”
“Isn’t that too close to Ragar? I’d think it would be unwise to take the statues right back to where we began.”
He chortled. “No, we are closer now