Dragons of the Watch - Donita K. Paul [82]
Ellie used her fingertips to brush Porky’s hair out of his eyes. “Now keep your hands away from the wound. Don’t pick. Don’t scratch. The sticking plaster will keep the sides of the cut together until Laddin can heal it tomorrow.”
Porky reached for the plaster on his head. “Who’s Laddin?”
Ellie batted his hand away. “A dragon of the watch.”
“A real dragon?” Soo-tie asked.
Bealomondore looked over his shoulder at the three children. His attention had been on the rows and rows of small medicine bottles. “Yes, a real minor dragon, not a bird.”
“Fairy tales,” said Soo-tie.
Porky squinted a glare at Bealomondore. “We know about fairy tales.”
Ellie put a hand under Porky’s chin and turned his face back to look at her. “What do you know about fairy tales?”
Cinder balanced on one foot with his arms sticking out. “They aren’t true.”
Soo-tie plopped down on the floor. “Pepper used to tell fairy tales every night.”
Ellie thought Soo-tie sounded sad. “She doesn’t anymore?”
“He doesn’t anymore.”
“He’s gone,” said Porky.
Ellie almost asked where he’d gone and then realized that the child must have died. She busied herself cleaning up the bits and pieces left over from plastering Porky’s cut.
“When did he leave?” asked Bealomondore.
Three little bodies gave three shrugs.
“A week ago,” said Cinder.
“Nah,” said Porky. “Longer. Two weeks ago.”
Ellie and Bealomondore looked to Soo-tie for a comment. She shrugged again, perhaps with a little more vigor than the first time.
Ellie knew fairy tales as well. Maybe some of them might be ones these children recognized. “Do you remember any of the names of the fairy tales?”
Soo-tie nodded, and her face lit up. “ ‘Rando and the Blue Fan.’ ‘Koomee-Kootah.’ ‘The Hill on the Mountain.’ ‘Five Little Brothers.’ ”
Porky bounced on the stool he sat upon. “ ‘Seven Tin Cups.’ ”
“ ‘Nine Days of Trouble,’ ” sang Cinder.
“I’m afraid I don’t know any of those.” Ellie looked at Bealomondore. “Do you?”
He shook his head.
“Can we go now?” asked Porky. “It’s awful close to noonmeal.”
“Yes,” said Ellie, “but meet us here tomorrow.”
They charged out the front door, leaving Ellie and Bealomondore to examine the contents of the shelves, taking note of things they might need in the future.
Ellie held up a squat green jar. “Here’s some ointment for Old One’s sore knees.”
“Look at this shelf.”
Ellie came to stand beside Bealomondore. “Bug pills?”
Bealomondore grinned and picked up one that read “Powdered Eggstram Snails.” He shook it, held it up to the light, and turned the bottle to see how much it contained.
“What are Eggstram Snails good for?” asked Ellie.
“Temper tantrums in toddlers, anxiety in adults.”
“I think I’d throw a temper tantrum if you suggested I consume that powder.”
“You put it in a beverage, and you can hardly taste it.”
Ellie examined his expression to see if he might be pulling her leg. “You’ve tried it?”
“Yes, for fear of heights.”
“You don’t seem to be afflicted with any fears. You climbed up to get my blouse this morning. That drainpipe didn’t look safe to me, but you didn’t seem to have any qualms.”
“I’m talking about significantly higher heights.”
She arched her eyebrows at him. Surely he was baiting her to have her plead for more complete information. She wouldn’t beg.
His manner charmed her, but his words brought her back to old suspicions. “I never got the hang of riding on a dragon. I get airsickness.”
Ellie’s trust wavered. In spite of the mischievous gleam in his eye, the look on her fellow tumanhofer’s face registered as sincere. Either she was the most gullible of country misses, or he told the truth. She decided his telling the truth was more acceptable to her all the way around.
She held up the ointment jar and turned it back and forth. “Let’s take the ointment back to Old One and check on making more daggarts.”
“More daggarts? Ellie, I hate to tell you this, but I don’t think the daggart strategy is working.”
“We’ll work out a system. We’re smarter than the average six-year-old.”
“These children have