Dragons of the Watch - Donita K. Paul [65]
Ellie scurried behind him, carrying the second seat. “I’ll feel more dignified sitting in a chair my own size.”
Bealomondore agreed, although on his own he probably wouldn’t have thought of his dignity being compromised by huge furniture.
This time, when they rounded the last corner, Old One sat in the chair they had always assumed was his favorite. Ellie caught a gasp before it flung itself out of her mouth and embarrassed her.
She had expected him to be huge, but she doubted her head was much higher than his knee. If he struck a blow to one of them, there would be no waking up. But he looked peaceful enough, even with his sour face.
He wore old-fashioned clothing that reminded her of the mayor of their little village. That should have made her less timid, but she’d never liked the mayor. Old One’s shoes were polished, and his hair gleamed in the light of the afternoon sun.
Blinking, Ellie focused on Old One’s shoulder. A truly ugly minor dragon perched there, looking Ellie over as much as Ellie stared at him. While brilliant clear colors sparkled in the scales of the dragons of the watch, this poor thing had only gray highlighting his wings. The dragon looked like a dirty old rag. It turned its head away.
A horrible thought went through her head. Oh, dear. I hope I haven’t hurt its feelings.
His head jerked back.
“His feelings,” she heard in her mind. “I am male. My name is Orli, which means ‘light unto you.’ ” The dragon winked. “You shall see beauty when and if I ever shine in your presence. It will be worth the wait.”
Ellie swallowed what felt like her heart in her throat and tried to look brave and unconcerned as she followed Bealomondore to the table. He placed the kettle on the center table next to the tray and bowed to Old One. He made a second bow to Orli.
Ellie clasped her hands and curtsied first to the urohm and then to his dragon.
The performance of a common curtsy made her feel less timid. She decided to test to see just how unobliging this old man was.
“Would you pour from the kettle to the teapot?” she asked. “It’s too heavy for us when it’s so full.”
Old One narrowed his eyes and stared at her for a moment. He then grasped the kettle, lifted the lid on the teapot, and poured in the steaming water. He put the lid back and set the kettle down.
“There,” he said. “I’ve done your duty as hostess.”
Ellie lowered her chin to avoid giving away her annoyance. She bit her lip and willed Bealomondore to take over the conversation. He jumped in immediately, and she wondered if he’d heard her thoughts as he had earlier. Or was his intervention coincidence?
Bealomondore talked easily, never allowing a long silence to become uncomfortable. He spoke of Chiril and the recent war, the wizard from Amara, and Paladin, who strove to introduce ignorant Chirilians to their Creator. Several times, Ellie felt tension in Orli, though she heard no words. And when she glanced at Old One, his face appeared to have frozen in a disapproving glare.
The tea steeped. When the aroma tickled her nose and told her the flavor should be just right, Ellie poured from the teapot to the cups. She worried that Old One would be hard to please and remembered all the things her mother had said about a proper tea. She offered Old One sugar. He took two spoonfuls. She passed the daggarts, and he took three.
That left a daggart apiece for her and Bealomondore. And one more. She offered the plate to Orli first. He looked up at her in surprise. She broke the daggart into pieces and put them on a napkin on the table. Orli flew down to enjoy the treat.
Ellie handed the plate with two daggarts to Bealomondore.
“Would you like tea as well, Orli? I’m sorry I did not think to ask before.”
She got his answer. “Yes, in a saucer, please, with a little sugar.”
“What is this?” demanded Old One. “How do you know his name?”
“He told it to me, sir.”
Orli concentrated on the piece of daggart in his hand, or rather, claw. Ellie thought his concentration was a little