Dragons of the Watch - Donita K. Paul [49]
“Whatever is the purpose of this, Ellie?” Bealomondore asked. “Do all housewives feel the need to conceal the contents of their kitchen drawers?”
She shrugged. She had no idea what possessed the mistress of this house. “I don’t know, but I can tell you that all this handiwork is of the best quality.”
“The habits and traditions of the urohms may forever be a mystery to us.”
“When we get out of Rumbard City”—she chose the word “when” instead of “if” on purpose—“we can ask your friends, Wizard Fenworth and Librettowit, if they have stayed after the wedding. Or Verrin Schope, if they’ve gone home.”
Bealomondore’s face brightened. “Exactly, and Librettowit left a library at the underground cathedral in the Valley of the Dragons.”
Ellie plied Bealomondore with questions and learned a great deal about his last two adventures with his friends. This time she hung on every word and then realized that she’d turned a corner in her regard for Bealomondore. She no longer suspected him of teasing her, telling her outlandish stories to prove her gullibility.
They went outside to collect wood for the stove and then laughed at their clumsy attempts to light the fire in the belly of the oversize oven. Covered with soot but successful, they lined up their ingredients to begin baking daggarts.
By the time the sun reached the zenith of its daily journey, they had located all the items they would need to make several batches of the crunchy treats.
“Time to begin this intrepid endeavor?” Bealomondore nodded to the warming oven.
“It would be better to wait for coals. The wood is burning too hot.”
“Then perhaps we should eat our noonmeal first.”
Ellie grinned. “We could have pickles.”
Tak came in from the backyard, stamped his feet, and nodded his head in the direction of their exit.
“What’s the matter, Tak?” asked Ellie.
Bealomondore headed for the back entrance. “I’ll check it out.”
Tak trotted over to Ellie and leaned against her. Ellie rubbed the goat’s neck and the crown of his head between the two stubby horns.
Bealomondore’s voice beckoned from outside. “Come on. Noonmeal has arrived, and I assume Tak was announcing our supper.”
Ellie and Tak squirmed through the hole. Bealomondore stood next to a wrought-iron table with a glass top. A picnic basket sat in the center.
Ellie pointed to the table. “This wasn’t here before, was it?”
“The noonmeal wasn’t here, but the table was.”
“I don’t remember it.”
“Just the same, it was here.” He pointed to a row of potted plants. “The table and two benches were covered with these flowers and things.”
She vaguely remembered the jumble of plants. “You moved all that?”
“No.” Bealomondore pushed a crate closer to one of the benches. “Whoever brought the noonmeal cleared the table.”
“Don’t you find that a bit odd?” she asked.
“Ellie, I find it odd that our meals are provided. Why should clearing the table be odder?”
“You’re right.” She responded to his gesture and clambered up onto the crate and, from there, onto the bench.
She opened the lid of the basket and pulled out two jars of cold lemonade. She unscrewed the lid on one and handed it to Bealomondore.
He took a long swig. “Ah, that is excellent.” He smacked his lips and looked at the basket. “What else is in there?”
“Sandwiches, something in a bowl, and two pieces of pie.” Ellie handed him a paper-wrapped sandwich.
“Let’s see what’s in the bowl.”
Ellie pulled it out and took off the cover. She laughed and tilted it just a bit to show Bealomondore.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Button grain for Tak. It’s his favorite, and he hasn’t had any since we left home.”
With a flip of the tail, Tak made the leap from the ground to the bench, bypassing the crate. “Maa!”
“I don’t understand,” said Ellie. She held the bowl steady while Tak devoured the grain. “This is so unnecessary. Just like the pie, it’s nice but an extra, not essential.”
Bealomondore sat cross-legged on the bench and opened his sandwich. “My premise is that the food is provided by Wulder.”
“I know that.”
“And in the Tomes, it is written, ‘Like