Dragons of the Watch - Donita K. Paul [78]
Ellie drew near with caution. “Hello, my name is Ellicinderpart Clarenbessipawl. I remember you.”
The girl looked up but didn’t return the smile Ellie had given.
“What’s your name?” asked Ellie.
“Soo-tie.”
“I’ve just recently met a dragon named Soosahn. He’s a laughing dragon and is funny.”
The child stared at Ellie.
Ellie tried again. “I’d like you to meet him someday. Today, we brought you a treat.”
She pushed her blouse and the cloth aside to pull out a daggart. The child rose immediately and grabbed the offering. She darted off, but another child ran out from between the buildings. He pushed her, knocking her over. Stepping on her wrist, he leaned over and wrenched the prize from her hand. He ran off.
“Oh!” Ellie ran to Soo-tie’s side. “Are you all right?” She helped the child sit up and dust off her clothes. Then she handed the girl another daggart.
Bealomondore surveyed the area, looking for more children ready to ambush Soo-tie. He heard a rush of stomping feet behind him, but he only managed a half turn before three sweaty boys barreled into him and knocked him over. The basket of daggarts left his hand and made its way down the street amid hooting and hollering by the successful raiders.
He rolled into a sit and saw Ellie and the small child surrounded by a ring of girls. The barrier did not face inward, threatening the daggart carrier, but formed a defensive circle. Boys surrounded them. They stayed out of reach of the girls’ clawing hands, but feinted attempts to charge the defensive band of six-year-olds. The girls carried sticks, and the boys hefted rocks.
Bealomondore got to his feet and drew his sword. “See here,” he called. “You are going to back off and treat these ladies with respect. Miss Clarenbessipawl has brought you daggarts. You may each have one, but there will be no fighting.”
One of the boys turned and hurled the rock directly at Bealomondore. He raised the sword and knocked the stone away before it could hit him. He heard Ellie squeal and saw that the girls had converged upon his friend and the smaller child she attempted to protect in her arms. The boys joined the fray, hitting the girls as well as Ellie.
The girls pounded on Ellie and Soo-tie with the sticks. The boys didn’t need any weapons other than their fists. Some of the girls turned and attacked those attacking them. Besides poking and hitting with their weapons, the girls pinched and slapped at the boys.
Bealomondore roared and charged. The flat of his sword swatted the backsides of several boys. They hollered, but it took more than one swing to dissuade them from their rough game.
The tumanhofer wielded his sword with precision. It didn’t even come close to cutting one of the children. Bealomondore gave thanks for the sword that had taught him how to fight and, in battle, directed his aim. To maneuver among this crowd without really inflicting harm required concentration and precision. But he suspected the edge was as dull as it had been the last time he used his sword to ward off grimy urchins.
One bully reached through the fray and grasped the handle of the basket. He wrenched the prize of daggarts from Ellie and took off. Screeches of protest filled the street, and most of the children raced to catch the successful thief.
“Why are you crying?” asked Soo-tie. She looked at Ellie with concern. “No one is supposed to cry. They’re extra mean to you if you cry. You need to stop. They’ll come back and pull your hair if you keep crying.”
Bealomondore sheathed his sword and came to help Ellie get up.
“Oh, look.” She pointed after the gang.
Two children lay in the street. One held his head and moaned. The other wiped a bloody nose on his sleeve. Ellie limped to where the first one was stretched out on his back. Blood dripped from between his fingers where he had them buried in his long, tangled hair.
She knelt beside him while Bealomondore went on to the second child. Soo-tie followed, seemingly more interested