Dragons of the Watch - Donita K. Paul [75]
Ellie felt like one of the children when a storyteller visited and deliberately paused to build their anticipation. But Old One had no thought of artificial dramatics. He truly seemed distressed. She leaned forward, and just as she touched his arm, Bealomondore lightly grasped the old man’s other arm.
Bealomondore asked, “What happened?”
“Wizard Pater found us.”
“His anger roiled the clouds in the sky. The citizens of Chiril ran, and as they escaped from the city, the wizard took all their memories of us, the buildings, and the civilization we presented as better than their own. He pulled the memories from them and placed them in a bottle.”
Ellie blinked and looked at Bealomondore. Neither one of them spoke. Ellie wanted to know if the city was in the same bottle as the memories, but that didn’t quite make sense.
“Our leader, Gordman Rumbard, faced down Wizard Pater and claimed that he no longer had the right to dictate what we do.” Old One’s voice dropped to a whisper. “That’s when the wizard, the spokesman for Wulder, assigned our punishment. We would be in Chiril but not allowed to be a part of Chiril.
“None of the adults would be entrusted with the treasure of the knowledge we had of Wulder. We would not be able to distribute the gems of life to these people. Only when this generation, my generation, had perished. Even if it were to take four hundred years, none in the city would be released from the bottle. The children would not mature until that time. We would be taken care of, but even being taken care of would be a curse.”
Ellie’s heart ached for the urohms. Their folly had brought them down. “How is it that the provisions would be a curse?”
“Boredom. No fruit of our labors. No task to do that gave a sense of satisfaction. Nothing we could give of our own to a neighbor to express friendship.”
He sat for a moment, dejected. “This has worn me down. I cannot continue.” He moved to get up. “I shall go to my room.”
“No,” said Bealomondore. “One thing has changed. You are not useless. We need your help to make the daggarts.”
Old One looked at Bealomondore as if he could not quite understand the words he had just heard.
“I will die soon,” he said. “Then perhaps the bottle will dissolve.”
Orli chittered, a scolding sound.
Ellie could almost make out the dragon’s words. “He doesn’t approve.”
Old One laughed without humor. “He believes there is one urohm left with honor in his heart. He believes I can change what is meant to be. He thinks too highly of me and too little of justice.”
Ellie didn’t want to part with his company until they had lifted his spirits. To go off to his room in this state of mind could not be good for his health. “Stay and help us.”
“Time to take out the next batch of daggarts,” said Bealomondore. He handed two hot pads to the urohm and opened the oven door. Old One allowed himself to be brought back into the job of baking. Later he helped them package the treats. Then he and Bealomondore worked the dumbwaiter, with Ellie at ground level emptying the car of its load.
Late that night, Ellie and Bealomondore walked to the butcher’s shop to see if a meal had been left. They assumed the box would be empty since food had been deposited in the library. The box was gone, the butcher’s stoop empty.
Ellie stood with her hands on her hips and scowled at the sight. “I don’t know if I like the idea of not having to come to get the food.”
“I know,” agreed Bealomondore. “When Old One told us of the futility of living with nothing to do, I thought of my dilemma. I have more than one thing that would satisfy my need to be of use. Instead of seeing that as a blessing, I regarded it as an annoyance.”
Ellie pushed her arm under his and grasped his hand. They stood for a while, linked and comfortable with the closeness of body and soul.
“What do you think our first duty is, Bealomondore?”
“I think we may have already done the first thing on the list.”
“Making