Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [78]
“Thank you, Wizard Fenworth. They’re the best I’ve ever had.”
He chortled. “One principle from Wulder’s Tomes is ‘An empty stomach gives the tongue an appreciative disposition.’ ”
Tipper didn’t reply but ate the rest of the little doppers. Taeda Bel brought her more, this time in a silver bowl.
“We’re going to have a fire and fried fish. Librettowit is catching the fish, and Bealomondore is building the fire.” The wizard stirred as if to get up, but Taeda Bel bowed to him. “The artist told me to tell you not to put yourself out. He’ll start the fire without one of your spells.”
Fenworth harrumphed and settled back in his comfortable position. “Tell him one tiny fireball wouldn’t put me out even a miniscule iota. But if he insists on doing it his way, he can. Tipper and I will rest.”
Taeda Bel skipped away, and Fenworth shifted his attention to Tipper’s red and puffy foot. In the few minutes since she had removed her boot, swelling had rounded the flesh from toes to ankle.
“Oh dear, oh dear. Tut, tut, tut. Something has gone amiss.”
He scooted to sit next to Rayn and cupped one hand under Tipper’s foot and the other next to the green dragon. “You could use a little help with that, could you not, young fellow?”
A pleasant tingle replaced the throbbing ache, and Tipper sighed with relief as she leaned back to rest against the trunk of the bentleaf tree. Her heavy eyelids drooped, but just over the horizon she saw three shapes in the sky. She sat up abruptly.
“Look!” She pointed. “Dragons!”
Bealomondore shaded his eyes with his hand. “That’s a sight not seen often in Chiril.”
As they watched, the flying dragons banked and came their way. Rayn ran from Tipper’s foot to her shoulder. He chittered excitedly.
“Paladin is with them,” she said.
Wizard Fenworth patted her foot. “There’s infection in your foot from one of the scrapes. We’ll clean that out and have you dancing in the moonlight with the prince in no time.”
Bealomondore scowled at the wizard. “I doubt that he knows how to dance. Remember, he’s lived alone in his one-towered castle since his youth.”
Librettowit and Maxon approached. The librarian carried several freshly caught fish threaded on a slender bentleaf branch.
“Then the ideal thing to do,” said the librarian tumanhofer, “is for you to give Paladin lessons on ballroom comportment, and he should give you lessons in battlefield swordplay.”
Fenworth stood and shook out his robes. Tipper grinned at Hollee’s delight. She danced on her toes as tiny fish fell to the ground and flip-flopped their way to the river.
The wizard frowned. “Don’t know where those came from. Couldn’t have been with me for long. They’re still wet.” His face brightened. “You were talking about swordplay. Bealomondore, didn’t that sword I left teach you anything?”
“Quite a bit actually. Enough to keep us alive, but not so much that I now feel comfortable with the thing in my hand.”
Fenworth squinted in the direction of the three dragons. “Paladin will be here before long. Librettowit, allow me to assist you in the frying of those fish. Do you have a lemon with you, an egg, some meal to provide the crunch?”
The librarian shook his head.
The wizard sighed deeply. “Up to me. Always up to me. Glad to help though. That’s my call, servant to many, leader of all.” He headed for the fire that Bealomondore had built. “You’ve cleaned the fish already, haven’t you, Wit? Good, good. I’ll just pull out a frying pan, a bit of bacon grease, and more, much more. We’ll have a feast while the sun is high and hot, then proceed in the cooler part of the day.”
Tipper found she could not relax. But Taeda Bel would not let her get up.
“You’ll pace, mistress, and ruin all the good Rayn and the wizard did with your foot.”
Tipper leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees. She rested her chin on her arms and gazed at the dragons drawing nearer. With her mind, she reached out to Prince Jayrus, Paladin of Chiril. She jerked in surprise when she actually heard his voice.
“Mindspeaking?” he said. “I didn’t know