Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [57]
Bealomondore fought down the urge to move closer and perhaps peek out of the stairwell. He wanted to see these two as they talked so calmly about turning them over. He wished he could mindspeak. He could hear what they said well enough, but what were they thinking?
Danto snorted. “What have you seen that I haven’t?”
“I’ve seen them guard that emerlindian girl. And all of them wear clothes finer than any ordinary traveler. The librarian speaks with an accent. He’s not from Chiril. And when I reached my hand into a pocket of one of their cloaks, my hand burned. Burned! I jerked it out fast enough, but I had to coat it with butter to ease the pain.”
“But—”
“Enough of your stalling. Put your shoulder to this crate.”
In a few moments, the sounds indicated they’d reached the other room. Maxon signaled, and Bealomondore followed him out the back door into an inky night.
22
Difficulties
Librettowit and Tipper had already boarded the raft. The princess sat on a box. Librettowit held his pole, ready to push away from the dock. Taeda Bel gripped her rope, holding it taut where she stood on the opposite bank. Maxon ran across this rope bridge from the raft to the shore in order to help her pull the bargelike craft.
Bealomondore snapped his mouth shut after witnessing this acrobatic feat and answered Librettowit’s urging to grab the line he would use.
To get the flatboat around the end of the dock, Bealomondore would have to walk to the end and reach out over the river. The dark water did not look inviting to the land-loving tumanhofer. The thought of falling in and drowning quickened his movements. The sooner this task was done, the better.
He and the librarian did their best to minimize the thuds. Each tap against a piling sounded like a loud knock on a nearby door. Bealomondore dropped the rope and picked up an oar. He used that to keep the raft away from the dock as they maneuvered it to the end and around to open water.
He quietly put the oar back where he’d found it, then picked up his end of the rope. He had to scurry to get to the bank and the trodden path. The smooth surface of the bank testified that many shippers used barges to transport their goods. This further compounded the mystery as to why there had been no traffic other than their small party.
An owl hooted. Bealomondore jumped and glanced back toward the boat stop, thinking it a miracle that no one inside heard their departure. Without speaking, the men and Taeda Bel guided the raft down the gently flowing river. The sliver of moon gave just enough light to keep him from stumbling.
The rough rope scratched his palms. He paused to dig out the gloves from his hollow and put them on. They came to a bend in the river, and both water and land sloped downward. Now rather than coaxing the raft along with tugs, he had to hold it back. He needed the gloves more than ever.
“Watch out!” Tipper exclaimed.
Bealomondore looked at the path in front of him. Nothing obstructed his way.
“Behind you,” she shouted.
He wheeled around and saw a bisonbeck bearing down on him. He dropped the rope, threw back his cape, and pulled out his sword.
Having practiced with the kimens and Librettowit, Bealomondore knew a little more about how to stand and position the weapon. He braced himself to counter the assault, but the Sword of Valor still did most of the work. For the moment, the exertion to keep alive drove away any marvel he felt over how the sword slashed and parried.
Rayn flew from Tipper to give him aid. He appeared as a black shadow and spit caustic saliva into the bisonbeck’s face. Bealomondore managed to make a few scores with his sword. His opponent folded over a wounded arm with a gasp.
“More coming,” screeched Tipper.
Bealomondore knocked the wounded man into the river and backed away. The raft bumped over the choppy water, taking Librettowit and the princess farther downstream. Bealomondore ran to close the distance, then turned to confront those barreling toward him.
A bisonbeck reached him first, and by sheer luck, he managed to trip