Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [93]
Lady Peg said, “Manners. They’ll need etiquette instructions. I volunteer for that. I’m quite good at knowing when it is proper to run on your host’s table and when it is not.”
Rayn jumped from Tipper’s shoulder to make the acquaintance of the new arrivals. He moved from one to the next as if he were a host circulating at a party. The scene lightened Bealomondore’s mood, and he found himself grinning at the ritual greeting. The dragons first touched forepaws, then noses. Then they slid heads forward, rubbing cheeks. The pose was held for a moment before broken. Not quite a handshake but definitely the accepted formal salutation between minor dragons.
Paladin waited until Rayn had moved through the crowded table. Then with a glance, he communicated something to them that Bealomondore could not fathom. Each dragon circled the table, touched each person sitting there, then lined up in front of the dragonkeeper, prince, paladin.
“I asked some of the dragons from the valley to come to our assistance. This watch is the first to arrive. Our efforts to repel the invasion are greatly improved by their presence. They will willingly serve the needs of the army, carrying messages, scouting the enemy’s entrenchment, healing wounds, soothing shattered minds, providing light, maintaining equipment, and encouraging our warriors in any way they can.” He dipped his head as if acknowledging his appreciation of their willingness to help.
The line of minor dragons bowed in a similar gesture. Bealomondore resisted the urge to grab his pencil.
This historic moment would have to go unrecorded. Who would believe him anyway? Most Chirilians believed that the small dragons ranked with feral cats. A few of the elite kept them as house pets. His own attitude had been changed by his association with the people at this table.
“Bealomondore.” Paladin’s serious voice broke into his thoughts. “Laddin and Det have decided to travel with you.”
Two dragons, a green mottled with blue and a plain green one, came to stand before the tumanhofer.
“Laddin is a healing dragon. Det will help you with directions. He has a head full of maps and geographical details. Tipper, Sheran, Pennek, Bevlo, and Trincum will accompany you and Rayn.”
Tipper raised her eyebrows as four green dragons lined up before her.
“You did say you wanted to help the wounded at the battlegrounds?”
She nodded.
A rather ugly fifth dragon, mottled gray and dirty white, scooted into the middle of the green crowd.
“This is Valo. He provides light.”
Lady Peg pulled on her husband’s sleeve. “I understand why this nice young man is not giving you more dragons, but I think I should like to have another dragon friend. One who talks to me. You know, Junkit and Zabeth do not.”
“Lady Peg, I asked particularly for a minor dragon with a talent that will be of benefit to you,” said Paladin. “I would like you to meet Bar Besta.”
A pale blue dragon with thin purple stripes came to sit in front of the wizard’s scatterbrained wife.
“Are you a he or a she dragon?” she asked.
She beamed and laid her hand on her husband’s arm to give him a shake. “Bar Besta is male, and he spoke to me. I heard his voice in my head, but his lips didn’t move. Isn’t that clever? Is that his talent?”
“Partly,” said her husband. “He’s skilled at communication.”
Lady Peg looked back and forth from her husband to her new dragon friend. “What else?”
Verrin Schope rubbed his chin. “I think we shall let you become acquainted with Bar Besta, and you will no doubt guess his talent.”
Rather than being offended, Lady Peg looked pleased. “A guessing game. I shall try very hard, but I must warn you, Bar Besta, that I am not very good at guessing. Well, I am actually very good at guessing but not good at guessing the right thing. Only the wrong thing. But I am very proficient at guessing the wrong thing, and that should make up for not coming up with the right thing.”
She cocked her head, then smiled.