Dragons of the Watch - Donita K. Paul [114]
Old One pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squinted shut. “Anyone alive in this city. That’s probably why he trapped you. So you would help him escape. He knew I wasn’t going to do it. I don’t care if he’s trapped for eternity. Ha! Serves him right for acting like he’s Wulder Himself. Setting a punishment on us as if he’s not just as prideful as the ones he punished.” He nodded. “But Wulder sees right to the heart of each man, woman, and child. Wizard Pater is confined just as we are.”
“Where?” asked Bealomondore.
Old One shook himself. “What’d you ask?”
“Where is Wizard Pater trapped?”
The librarian waved his hand in front of him, dismissing the question. “That was years ago. Why do you want to dredge up the past?”
Bealomondore stood. “We want to get out of here.”
“This isn’t such a bad place. A bit livelier than I like now that you’re here.” He nodded toward the children’s section. “You’ll soon turn those out. They cause trouble.”
Ellie peeked around Bealomondore. “We will not be throwing the children out.”
Old One scowled at them. “What are you going on about? I’m tired, and you two are nattering. Leave me alone.”
Bealomondore sat down again. They watched the librarian settle in his chair, preparing for an afternoon nap.
Bealomondore placed his arm around Ellie’s waist and leaned closer. “I think that’s all he’ll tell us today. But if we could get him to talk, to remember things, he could help us get out.”
She whispered back. “I wonder what triggered this memory. I’d be willing to testify that he didn’t ‘remember’ the bit about Wizard Pater being trapped yesterday or this morning.”
“I doubt he remembers what we were talking about two minutes ago.” He rested one hand on his knee. “I know some people who own an insect emporium. They probably have some mixture that would stimulate his memory.”
“And I know a woman in the village who mixes up dried herbs. She probably has something for memory.”
Bealomondore sighed. “And neither source is available to us.”
“We could look for a book on herb lore. I know a little bit but not enough for something like this.”
“After we found a book, then we’d have to find the herbs. We might be old and gray by then.”
Ellie shuddered. “I don’t want to live here for always, Bealomondore.”
“Neither do I.”
“Let’s talk about something else.” She looked at Orli, who watched them, not at all relaxed like his urohm. Then her eyes went back to the children’s area. “The dragons stayed with the children,” she said.
Bealomondore hugged her closer. “Now they finally have something to watch.”
Old One sat up suddenly, startling them both. He prefaced his statement with his usual growl. “Why did you choose that story? Why not educate them with the history of Amara? There are two excellent volumes detailing the journey to Chiril.”
“I picked a legend, a fairy tale, for a specific purpose. And I picked ‘The Monster Held the Children’ because I wanted to educate them.”
“Bah, it’s nonsense. Monsters and caves and cunning trickery. No substance.”
Bealomondore felt the tension bubbling in Ellie. He rubbed his hand up and down her arm.
She took a deep breath to calm herself. It was one of the many habits he’d grown to recognize. Through their bond, he sensed her ordering her thoughts.
“My gramps attended Dorminhale University. He calls himself a wood and prairie scholar. That means he’s wise in practical and not-so-practical things. He taught me to read in defiance of my father, who is a field, farm, and natural scholar.”
“So?” Old One’s glare sharpened, as did the challenge in his voice.
Ellie chafed. The tumanhofer’s condescension irritated her. She wouldn’t be rude, because rudeness proved ignorance. She’d politely mention her upbringing.
“So,” she said with a smile, “Gramps taught me material from many of the courses he attended at Dorminhale. He especially liked literature. He said that fairy tales are found in every culture. Each group of people uses story to define their world. The story we just read tells the children