Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [81]
“How did you hurt your foot?” he asked.
Tipper smiled at him, unwilling to begin the conversation. Having him sitting beside her, holding her hand, their eyes meeting without any embarrassment, all of this warmed her and wrapped her in a cocoon of comfort. She didn’t want to interrupt the moment.
His grin grew, and she knew she had to answer.
“I went from the top to the bottom of an incline a bit more speedily than I anticipated.”
“Let me see.”
He let go of her hand and moved to examine her ankle and foot. Her dragon inched aside so he could see. “Ah! Rayn and Wizard Fenworth have helped tremendously.” He rested his hand on the swelling. “Suppose I use a little of Wulder’s gift while we talk.” Rayn wiggled closer and put his chin on the back of Paladin’s fingers.
Tipper’s contentment multiplied with the increased pleasure emanating from the green healer. She leaned back and closed her eyes, resting her mind, her body, and her spirit. A sheltering warmth surrounded her like a cozy blanket. The closest image she could relate to the sensation involved her father, a large cushioned rocking chair, and a stuffed doll she’d had as a very small child.
Paladin had said they’d talk, but they didn’t utter a word. A communion passed through the three, Paladin, Tipper, and Rayn. With a gasp, Tipper realized another entity joined the circle. Wulder. She opened her eyes to find Paladin and Rayn peaceful.
Their eyes remained shut, their faces relaxed in pleasant smiles, and the thrum of union circled. She felt the energy leave her body at the point where Rayn’s soft stomach touched the arch of her foot. The steady flow reentered where Paladin’s hand rested.
A tip of the vision of war surfaced and sank in her mind. She knew the terror remained but also knew it was important to stay in this place, absorb this strength, and connect for a few more minutes with the power that created beauty.
Later she might be called upon to deal with the evil advancing upon her country. Whether she stood against that malevolent entity depended on what she gleaned from these brushes with Wulder. Deep in her soul, she knew the beauty and power of Wulder would sustain her if she had to enter into those images of devastation she’d seen in Paladin’s mind. Those visions of destruction could not coexist with the present joy of communion with Him and His servants.
32
The Wizard’s Plan
Fenworth did not take the plate Bealomondore offered. Instead he waved the tumanhofer away. Hollee ate her portion in silence. Her wizard worried her. He’d been thoughtful before, and she knew he pondered many weighty matters. His long stretches of stillness, which ended in a treelike state, she’d come to appreciate. But now a frenzy bubbled beneath his atypical commotion.
He drew on a sketch pad of thin paper and muttered. His pencil flew furiously over a clean page and then lost the energy that drove it. As his hand slowed, his muttering increased, until he tore the page out, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it down. At least two dozen wads clustered around his feet.
Librettowit had walked away once Fenworth became noncommunicative. Hollee couldn’t walk away. Whatever the wizard had on his mind, she wanted to be a part of it. She wouldn’t risk wandering away and missing the action. Her mind churned with possibilities.
Would they go to war, face the invading army at the base of the Mordack Mountains? Her wizard liked his comforts, and he tired easily. Should an old man go into battle?
Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. She believed he had strength and power that didn’t surface until he needed them. Her eyes opened wide. He might stride onto the battleground, wave his walking stick, and poof, the enemy would go up in smoke. Or he might be killed while he tried to remember a particular spell.
Would they enter the cities and proclaim the truth? She loved to listen to Wizard Fenworth talk. If she concentrated, she could follow one thread that went through his discourse. She considered