Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [54]
She shook her head.
“Well, no one knows we have the statues. The rumor is that the king has moved them to a safer location.”
Bealomondore backed toward the open door. Tipper looked woebegone. He would have liked to comfort her, but he was alone with her in her bedroom, and his sympathy might be looked upon as an attempt to woo her.
“Don’t worry, Princess. The kimens sent out scouts, and they know which route we are planning to take. It is not quite like searching for a boat in Librettowit’s hollow. We’ll find your parents.”
He beat a hasty retreat. Not only did he not want to go on a dangerous quest, he did not want to become enamored with an emerlindian lady who had set her heart on another man.
A hand pressed against his chest. Thick, fetid breath assaulted his nostrils. A sharp, jabbing pain poked at his neck. Bealomondore awoke to find the ugly, snarling face of a bisonbeck two inches from his own.
“Silence,” the rough man hissed, “or I’ll put this dagger through your throat.”
He grabbed the front of Bealomondore’s nightshirt and lifted him out of his bed. The covers fell to the floor. Bealomondore tried to relax, relieved that the sharp blade no longer pressed against his neck.
Bealomondore whispered, “I’ve very little money, but you may have it all.”
“Ha! We don’t want your money. We heard you call that girl Princess. We’ll get more money in ransom than you have in your pockets.”
“Princess? That’s a joke. What would a princess be doing away from the palace in Ragar, traveling on a puny raft? Why would she be staying here instead of in a fancy hotel? If she’s a real princess, where are her ladies-in-waiting?”
“Shut up! The boss says we nab her and kill the rest of you. We do what the boss says.”
“Your accent tells me you are not from around here. Your boss is mistaken about the girl, and you’re going to go to a lot of trouble for nothing.”
The bisonbeck returned his knife to the tumanhofer’s neck. “I think your squawker box is right about here. If I don’t carve it out the first time, I’ll try again.”
Bealomondore clamped his lips together. The bisonbeck nodded his approval. He carried his prize out the door, down the hallway, and up a flight of stairs and dumped him on the floor of a storage room. Two other bisonbecks grabbed him and tied him up. They propped him against a wall.
The bisonbeck who had captured Bealomondore left and came back in a few minutes with Librettowit. The librarian was trussed up and planted next to the younger tumanhofer. The three bisonbecks departed. A key scraped. The click of the lock punctuated their loss of freedom.
Librettowit leaned closer to Bealomondore. “There’s still one outside the door.”
“How do you know?”
“Listened to the footsteps. Only two went down the stairs.”
“Do you think the son and Mistress Posh are in on this?”
“Of course.”
“Why?” asked Bealomondore.
“I’m fairly sure these men were planted here by Odidoddex. They have an accent that Maxon says hints of their being from Baardack.”
“Where are Maxon and Taeda Bel?”
Librettowit squirmed as he answered. “I saw them go out together. Rayn was with them.”
“That was hours ago. They went to find food more to their liking.”
Librettowit grunted, then pulled his hands out from behind him. He began untying his feet.
Bealomondore watched with amazement. “How’d you do that?”
“When you are a wizard’s librarian for a century or two or three, you pick up some useful tricks.” He finished freeing his feet. “Lean forward, and I’ll untie your hands.”
In another minute, they both stood, rubbing their wrists where the ropes had left chafed skin.
Bealomondore tilted his head toward the door and whispered, “That oaf said they were going to kill us.”
“They would have killed us by now if they were going to.”
“Not that I object, but why didn’t they?”
“Probably wanted to use one of us as a messenger. Or they are hoping they could get a ransom for us as well.”
“I distinctly heard him say ‘kill you.’ ”
“Probably just wishful thinking on the thug