Dragonspell - Donita K. Paul [103]
“Will they come back?” The little girl’s chin trembled, and she held tightly to her father’s arm.
“This pack is dead.”
“Why did the water kill them?” The tall boy sat upright beside the other male members of his family.
“Blimmets do everything quickly, in small fierce movements. They breathe in gulps. They pulled water into their lungs before they knew what was happening. Also, they are not intelligent. Those who survived the first drencher would not have realized they only needed to hold their breaths in order to survive.”
“They’re pretty,” a little girl said around the thumb stuck securely in her mouth.
Librettowit looked at her kindly. “Yes, my dear little one, they are. Their fur is gloriously shiny for all their digging in the dirt. It is incredibly smooth and silky. It even has a pleasant odor, somewhat like baking nut pie, sweet and rich. However, if you take a blimmet pelt and make some garment to wear, it attracts other blimmets, and you meet a nasty end.”
Librettowit put his hands behind his back and glanced over to Fenworth. The old wizard nodded.
Librettowit sighed. “It is also said that the meat is tasty. Roasted blimmet is a savory culinary dish. I tell you this not to tempt you, but to warn you. Once you have eaten the blimmet meat, you will want more. I cannot imagine a more unhealthy occupation than hunting blimmet. Yet there are men who do so. Young men…they do not grow old.”
“Is that why we burn them?” asked another child.
“Yes, and we put in the deckit powder to make the fire burn hot.” His voice rose and for the first time sounded stern and impatient. “Deckit powder also leaves a bitter taste that would discourage any fool from the idiotic notion of sampling the meat just to see if the stories are true.”
“I have a question,” said Kale.
Librettowit nodded to her.
“Why did the blimmets only attack outside the circle we stood in?”
Librettowit’s shoulders eased back, his chest puffed out, and a pleased smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“I did that.”
“Wit.” Fenworth said the name low and slow.
“Well, it’s true I couldn’t have done it without Fenworth right there feeding power into my spell, but you can’t live with a wizard and organize his library for centuries without learning at least a thing or two.”
Kale remembered hearing the tumanhofer grunting and panting during the attack. If Librettowit could cast a magic spell, could anyone? Provided that anyone was given the right training, of course. She didn’t think she should ask that question here, but one of the younger children must have been wondering the same thing.
“Was it hard?” a little voice piped up.
“Quite,” answered the librarian.
“Sir?”
Librettowit turned to a girl sitting snuggled up against a slightly older sister.
“Yes?”
“What was the pretty light we saw in the sky? It was after the screaming stopped. It wasn’t high enough to be the moon or the stars.”
Several voices spoke up, defying tradition of allowing the spokesman to answer any question. The phenomenal light caused more interest than the peculiarities of blimmets.
“Wizardry.”
“The wizard did it.”
“Wizard Fenworth made the light.”
Librettowit turned to face Fenworth.
“Aye,” said the old man. “Wizardry made the light, but it was not me.”
Kale stared at Librettowit. Had the tumanhofer performed such an astonishing spell?
No, he was just as bewildered as I was. And if Fenworth didn’t do it, who did? Librettowit and I were the only ones who were not hurt. No, that’s not true. Gymn and Metta. But Gymn had fainted. Metta?
The song of the returning mourners drifted from the woods. The people rose to their feet out of respect. From one direction came the five kimens and Metta. From the other arrived the women with the rejoicing feast. A few in the crowd hummed the song the kimens sang in strong, sure voices. Metta flew ahead of the walking procession and landed on Kale’s shoulder.
Dar pulled out his flute and joined the music. Kale heard several fiddles pick up the melody as the people responded to the unspoken