Dragons of the Watch - Donita K. Paul [73]
Ellie raised her eyebrows and grinned at Bealomondore. Maybe they were finally going to get some history out of the urohm. Orli flew to the windowsill and looked out.
Old One slipped the daggart sheet into the oven and closed the door. He then moved around the room looking at his notes while trying not to look like he was looking at his notes. Bealomondore and Ellie busied themselves with preparing the next batch in order to look like they did not notice that he was looking at his notes.
The old gentleman eventually sat down at the table, dug a spoon into the bowl of dough and commenced nibbling the gooey concoction. Between bites he asked Ellie, “Is your goat a nanny or billy?”
“Billy.”
“Shame. Goat milk is good. Goat cheese is better.”
“We make goat cheese on the farm.”
Old One nodded. “Bealomondore, there’s a kettle in that cupboard. Put some water on to boil for tea, if you would.”
Ellie sat opposite the urohm. “Would you tell us about coming to Chiril?”
“Yes.” He paused, then gave Bealomondore’s back a quick glance, where he stood at the pump, filling the kettle. The old man winked at Ellie. “My memory’s clear if you go back far enough. I suppose you’ve figured it out, the two of you. You’re young and clever.”
Ellie smiled with understanding. Her gramps had the same troubles at times. “You don’t remember things from today or yesterday or a couple days ago. And as the day goes on, you get too tired to think, and you forget more. At least, that’s what my gramps says is the case.”
“He’s got the right of it,” Old One said around a dollop of dough in his mouth.
“Would you tell us how Rumbard City came to be in the bottle?”
He looked so sad and weary that Ellie regretted having prodded him. She wanted to tell him it didn’t matter. But of course, it did. She contemplated telling him to keep the tale for another time. But he heaved a great sigh and began.
“We were sent here by the paladin of Amara. We were chosen because our race, the urohms, had demonstrated once before that we could stand honorably. Alas, this time we failed the test.”
“How?” asked Ellie.
Bealomondore sat down at the table while waiting for the water to boil. “Why did Paladin send you to Chiril?”
“Paladin knew of Chiril and that the people here had lost the knowledge of Wulder.” He looked at them sharply. “Do you know who Wulder is?”
Bealomondore nodded. “Our country has been visited by a wizard and a librarian from Amara. And our own Verrin Schope visited Amara and came back with the truth of Wulder. Now Chiril has its own paladin. Our people are beginning to learn of Wulder and the teachings in His Tomes.”
Old One’s shoulders drooped, and he looked down at his hands. He’d polished off the spoonful of dough, so he slowly turned the spoon around and around. “That was our job, our first duty. We were to tell the people of Chiril the truth. A very simple task, but we managed to bungle it.”
The kettle called, loud and shrill. Bealomondore jumped to take it off the heat. The shriek lost momentum and became silent. The tumanhofer hastily poured the tea, and while it steeped, the three companions in the kitchen removed trays of crisp, hot daggarts from the oven and replaced them with trays containing lumps of dough. With Old One to handle the oven and the heavy baking sheet, Ellie and Bealomondore could manage the other chores easily.
Soon they each had a cup of tea and a daggart.
“I’m glad you came,” said Old One.
Ellie reached to pat his arm. “I’m glad we got to meet you. But the truth is, we would like to leave. Perhaps we can all get out.”
Bealomondore looked intently at their host. “If you can tell us more about why we are in the bottle, we hope we can discover how to get out.”
Orli came to roost on Old One’s shoulder. The urohm broke off a piece of the daggart and handed it to his dragon companion. “I suppose I could, but I don’t see how it will help. We had a wizard traveling with us, Wizard Pater and his dragon, Salm. The wizard