Dragons of the Watch - Donita K. Paul [129]
The children romped like springtime rabbits in the meadow. Tak settled in to trim down the abundant growth.
“They’ve never been in the country,” Ellie said. “Look how excited they are.”
“Come, hurry,” called Wizard Pater. He charged toward the glass wall.
“I can see it,” said Ellie, huffing a bit as she kept up. “When I first passed through, I turned around and couldn’t see the glass.”
“Neither could I,” said Bealomondore.
“Angle of the sun,” Wizard Pater yelled. “No time to talk about diffusion, reflection, and refraction. Fascinating, but I judge we only have three minutes to get you through to the other side. This rag is all but dry.”
He stopped by the wall. Ellie and Bealomondore caught up. The wizard showed no signs of strain. The tumanhofers panted. Ellie’s knees buckled, and she sat in the grass.
“Get up, girl,” demanded the wizard. “You can collapse on the other side.”
She struggled to her feet with Bealomondore’s help.
The wizard unwrapped the glass shards. “Aaah! Just enough moisture within the cloth to get you through. Ready?”
Ellie turned to the frolicking children. “I need to say good-bye.”
“No time,” the wizard said.
“Tak! I have to get Tak.”
The goat still foraged near the open door to the subter.
“Too far, no time.” Wizard Pater gave the bottle fragments and cloth to Bealomondore. “Now hold Ellie’s hand and just walk through. No problem.”
Bealomondore started to speak, “Thank you—”
“No time. Walk!”
They stepped toward the barrier, Ellie looking over her shoulder. “You will watch the children? They’ve made such good progress. And take care of Yawn and his little toughs. They really are just children.”
“Yes. Yes. Go, girl, or you’ll be left behind.”
Ellie felt Bealomondore tugging at her hand. She turned to find herself pressed against the glass. Part of Bealomondore had already penetrated the barrier.
Both hands were empty. Bealomondore spun around, but there was no sign of Ellie. Instead, he could see two wagons, his and another traveling cart that reminded him of caravan wagons the wanderers lived in, a tiny house on wheels.
He looked down at his clothes. His sword was at his side, even though he had not been wearing it in Tuck. He had on the same ragged shirt, coat, and pants that had been his uniform while away.
But his wagon and the old slow horse were right where he’d left them in the shade. The sun hadn’t even moved enough to change the direction of the shadow.
A marione came out of the back end of the large cart. He waved. “There you are!” He beckoned him closer. “Come. Have some refreshments.”
The voice sounded familiar. The man looked familiar. Bealomondore squinted to read the lettering on the wooden side of the wagon. “Rowser and Piefer Insect Emporium. The finest supplies in medicinal bugs.”
“Rowser?” Bealomondore dashed across the field. “How did you get here? What are you doing here?”
“Vacation.” He smiled and held out his arm, gesturing to the lovely countryside around them.
“He’s on vacation,” fussed another voice Bealomondore remembered. “He sits and reads.”
Rowser held up a finger. “And records.”
“While I run around with a butterfly net, catching specimens for our shop.”
Bealomondore came to a halt beside Rowser. “Piefer, where are you?”
He heard a scraping noise from under the wagon. Soon Piefer’s head popped out. The bug man was on his back, and he grinned up at the tumanhofer. “I was just checking on the night beetles. We have to keep them cool and alive.”
Bealomondore made a disgusted face. “Surely you don’t feed them to your patients alive.”
Rowser looked up from the book he’d opened. “Alive? The patient or the bug?”
Bealomondore looked over his shoulder again. Where was Ellie? To Rowser, he answered, “I assume the patient is alive. A corpse would be uncooperative when asked to swallow your brew of medicine.”
The emerlindian Piefer climbed out from under the wagon and slapped the loose dirt from his pants. “I look like I’ve been working in the field. But