Dragons of the Watch - Donita K. Paul [132]
Aunt Tiffenbeth frowned at her. “Of course. You aren’t to be punished for this little mishap. Obviously you ran into circumstances beyond your control. It is fortunate that you are not hurt. Clothes can be replaced.”
Ellie started to throw her arms around her aunt but stopped. Her aunt wasn’t quite ready to accept an embrace from a dirty ragamuffin niece.
Ellie settled for words. “Thank you, Aunt.” She smiled at the top of her uncle’s head as he bent over his book. “Thank you, Uncle.”
He grunted.
“Aunt Tiffenbeth, do you know of a society artist named Graddapotmorphit Bealomondore?”
“Oh, my girl, you are unsophisticated. Everyone knows of Bealomondore. He’s famous for various escapades. He was important in the war and helped save the country. He’s been on quests with Paladin. Perhaps that’s where you’ve heard his name. He’s a good friend to the princess and is mentored by Verrin Schope himself.”
“Do you think we can meet him in Ragar?”
“Oh, dear girl, no. Your uncle and I don’t belong to that circle of society. They are rather above us. Not that I would want to be caught up in that level of our culture. So much is done merely to impress. An inordinate amount of expense is involved in dressing and providing hospitality and traveling to galas. I’d rather your Uncle Stemikenjon spend his money on our own little comforts that please us and make us comfortable. The alternative is to spend it to garner the favor of people you hardly know and to accrue praise of little worth.”
Ellie pondered her aunt’s words. Perhaps she was right after all. Perhaps she and Bealomondore had been parted as the gentlest way to end their relationship. The chances of meeting Bealomondore in the crowded city, among all the high society people, were slim. Nonexistent.
Then she remembered Bealomondore’s proposal in the subter. And his kiss. The tingle in her toes at the memory determined her course. She was going to look for him and hope he was looking for her.
Ellie stood with her aunt and uncle on a balcony overlooking Palace Fairway, the street that led directly to the Amber Palace. Thousands of people lined the streets below. The coronation parade proceeded slowly along the plotted route. Aunt Tiffenbeth’s friend pointed out the personalities in each open carriage as they passed in front of the hotel.
“This carriage has the councilors and their wives. I’d name them all, but I only want to name a few of those participating in the parade. You’d be overwhelmed by a hundred or so names you’ll never need to know.”
Aunt Tiffenbeth smiled and nodded. “I do want you to point out Sir Beccaroon.”
“All grand parrots look alike, but I will try. Dikendraval has a program.”
She leaned forward a bit to look down the line of people watching the parade to where her daughter stood with Ellie. “Dikendraval, let us know when the carriage with Sir Beccaroon comes by.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Ellie bounced on her toes. “There!” She pointed to a carriage way down the street that had just turned the corner to make the approach to the palace. “That’s him. That’s Bealomondore!”
Aunt Tiffenbeth arched an eyebrow at her. Ellie saw the look and interpreted what her aunt wanted. Ellie refrained from bouncing like a country bumpkin and folded her hands demurely in front of her waist. Aunt Tiffenbeth nodded her approval.
Ellie closed her eyes and tried to reach Bealomondore by mindspeaking. When she listened with her mind, she heard thoughts from all the people around. The sudden uproar shocked her, and her hands came up to cover her ears. That didn’t help at all, so she closed her mind against the cacophony.
She turned to her new friend, Dikendraval. “I’ve got to go down there. I must speak to him.”
Dikendraval’s eyes grew big, and she clamped both hands on Ellie’s arm. “You can’t. It’s not safe for you to be down there in the crowd. You could get knocked over. And there are thieves who would steal your reticule. And”—Dikendraval stretched out her last objection