Dragons of the Watch - Donita K. Paul [68]
“What do we have this morning?” she asked.
“Muffins and oatmeal,” Bealomondore said as he handed the first muffin to Ellie. “Fruit and hard-boiled eggs.”
“Old One says his breakfast is served upstairs. So he’s already eaten.”
“I didn’t say that.” He sounded gruff.
She turned to look at him. He always seemed so angry. She thought about their earlier exchange.
“You’re right. You didn’t say you already ate breakfast.”
The old urohm looked relieved, but like many of his expressions, the attitude passed so quickly that she wasn’t sure she’d seen it. His scowl decorated his face almost constantly. Of that she was sure.
“I know I didn’t eat because my stomach says it isn’t so.” He reached past them and began lifting things to the tabletop.
Her eyes caught Bealomondore’s, and again the feeling that he had thought the same thing she did fluttered in her mind. Since that first time when he had heard her thinking about talking to Tak, the feeling had repeated itself. Now he puzzled over why Old One phrased that last statement as he did. And she puzzled right along with Bealomondore. Didn’t the urohm know whether or not he had eaten? Did he need proof of an empty stomach to decide the answer?
Bealomondore shrugged and offered to give her a boost up. With his help, she climbed the wooden chair. He came after her, and they each sat on a book to lift themselves high enough to reach their breakfast comfortably.
Bealomondore commented on the walk he and Tak had taken that morning. He’d seen a few birds closer to the center fountain but not actually in the circle.
“I’ve rarely seen the birds land there,” he said, speaking directly to Old One. “Why is that?”
Orli turned his head, ears alert and seemingly interested in the conversation.
Old One bit into a parnot. “At least I still have all my teeth. Things don’t wear out. Shoes, clothes, beds, books, furniture, drapes, and rugs never get old or too shabby to keep. There’s always food, three times a day, unless those urchins don’t go to bed when it’s dark. Then there’s nothing the next day. Sometimes all day. Only thing that makes them follow a rule.”
Ellie and Bealomondore exchanged mystified glances. Was Old One deliberately avoiding the question, or was the gentleman confused?
Bealomondore’s gaze went back to the urohm. “Did you make that rule, sir? About going to bed?”
“No, I don’t make the rules around here. I don’t even try to follow them. Can’t remember half of them.”
He snapped his mouth shut on the last word.
Orli came to perch on Old One’s shoulder, snuggling close to his chin as if to comfort the old man.
Ellie smiled at Bealomondore. “I’d like to take a walk this morning.”
“Right.”
He was in tune with her. He knew she needed a talk more than a walk. This bond came in handy.
Bealomondore nodded. “Perhaps Old One could tell us about that place to bake daggarts. We could check it out for ingredients and equipment.”
“No need to go on a walk for that,” said Old One. “It’s upstairs, in the living quarters for the custodian.”
Ellie raised her eyebrows. “Are you the library’s custodian?”
“Guardian,” he said. “Not the custodian.”
“So you live in the guardian’s quarters.”
“Said I did, didn’t I?”
Ellie looked at Bealomondore, and the same thought blended in her mind with his. No, I don’t believe you did.
Bealomondore walked beside Ellie as they followed Tak along the pathways through the library park. The foliage still grew wild, but the goat had done a lot of nibbling and seemed to choose plants that needed cutting back. In a few more weeks, he’d have the area looking decent.
Bealomondore tucked Ellie’s hand into the crook of his arm. “I don’t think Old One is being obstinate. I think he’s curt and not forthcoming because he doesn’t know the answers.”
“Senile?” Her tone sounded worried, filled with compassion for the man who growled in all his communications.
“I don’t think so. I think it’s part of the spell of the bottle city.”
“I’m getting mighty tired of this spell.”
“I sympathize.”
“What did you try in attempts to