Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [56]
The sound of footsteps below separated the two tumanhofers, each bolting for his own room.
Once in his quarters, Bealomondore made sure his curtains were closed before he lit a candle. The soft light almost took away the dread that filled him. Unfortunately, it exposed the mess he’d made before turning in. He began to gather his things.
He picked up a sketch of Tipper, framed by the window, rolled it, secured it with a ribbon tie, and thrust it into a hollow in his cape. He pulled out the sword and belt, threw them on the bed he’d been snatched from, and began searching for clothes suitable for a nighttime escape.
Dressed in appropriate dark but stylish attire, Bealomondore finished off his ensemble by fastening the sword belt around his waist. He pulled the sword from its sheath and gave it a close inspection, squinting at the hilt. Along the silver cross guard, an etching looked like words. He moved closer to the candle and let the light shine on the delicate lines.
He whispered the words, “The Sword of Valor slays only the wicked.”
Standing erect, Bealomondore made several passes through the air. He liked the swishing sound. He sheathed the sword. “ ‘ … slays only the wicked.’ I hope that means I won’t accidentally slice myself into bits.”
Maxon came to retrieve him just as he reached for the door. Startled, Bealomondore jerked his hand away, allowing the kimen to swing it wide. The kimen’s clothing barely showed. He’d darkened it for sneaking around the boat stop.
“What is taking you so long?” the kimen fussed. “Everyone else is at the raft and ready to depart.”
“Donkeys?”
“No donkeys.”
Bealomondore followed Maxon. They passed the stairway that led to the registration desk and the common room of the boat stop. The voices from below reminded the artist to be extra quiet. At the end of the hall, they came to a second stairwell, narrow and dark. The kimen brightened his clothing and went first, giving off enough light for Bealomondore to safely follow.
When only three more steps remained before them, Maxon extinguished his light. Bealomondore froze. He listened and heard someone moving around in the room directly ahead.
Someone else walked in, and his voice gave him away. “Edrina, Bosk and Drowder want more food.”
Bealomondore muffled his sigh of disappointment. He’d liked the young man on the dock, but Danto’s friendly tone had changed as he addressed the other person in the back room. And what civilized son called his mother by her first name?
“Tell them they can wait until morning,” said Edrina. “I’m not their servant.”
The tone of Danto’s voice changed again. He sounded fearful. “Do you think …”
Bealomondore cocked his head, trying to determine what could cripple this healthy young man’s confidence.
“Do you think The Grawl will be with the others when they get here tomorrow?”
“Groddenmitersay didn’t indicate he would be bringing Kulson’s unit to this location. And even if he did, it is said The Grawl can’t abide being in a building for more than a few minutes. He won’t bother us. That is, unless someone has put your name on his list to exterminate.”
“I would have preferred to kill these travelers rather than keep them for Groddenmitersay to interrogate.”
“Bosk said wait, so we wait. Help me move this crate to the kitchen.”
Bealomondore listened. Edrina and the young man grunted as they shoved a heavy object across the floor. The noises moved away from the stairwell, probably toward the door leading to the common room.
Danto groaned, and the scraping of wood against the stone floor ceased. “One of the bisonbecks could pick this up and haul it with no trouble. Let me go get one.”
“They’re busy,” Edrina snapped. “And I don’t like them anywhere near me.”
“Why do you think Bosk wants to give these travelers over to Groddenmitersay? I didn’t think there was anything special about them.”
“Ha! And you think you’re so smart. You need to learn to have