Normally, so many people in despair would have captured Bixby’s attention. She would have spent some time studying this crowd to determine what common element in their lives caused their distress. She steeled herself not to allow her curiosity to upset her agenda. Top priorities were finding Cantor and Bridger, rescuing Totobee-Rodolow, and persuading more mor dragons to join them in the battle against invaders. Then off to save the world.
First, the pastry booth.
She and Tegan found the food court, and then the stall selling cakes, cookies, meat pies, and sausages wrapped in dough and baked until nicely browned.
A small version of Bridger stood beside Cantor. The dragon’s belly protruded as if he hid a large game ball inside.
“You’re going to be sick,” she scolded.
Bridger licked his claw tips and smacked his lips. “Never sick.”
“You just had a beastly cold. You do get sick.”
He shook his head. “I never get sick to my stomach.”
“I have something to tell you that might make you queasy.”
Cantor elbowed in between Bixby and the dragon. He pointed over Bixby’s shoulder. “Who’s this?”
Bixby barely gave the man a glance. “Tegan.”
“What is he doing here?”
“Following me.”
“Why?”
Bixby beetled her brow. “I don’t know why.” She faced Tegan. “Why are you following me?”
Tegan looked confused, an expression that often came to his face. He frowned as if in deep thought and finally answered. “I forgot.”
He wandered off and sat at one of the tables provided for those who had bought a meal.
Bixby gave him a last puzzled look, then dismissed him from her thoughts and returned to the important matters. She switched to mindspeak so only the two could hear her. “Errd Tos is here.”
Moving closer to the dragon, she put her hands on his arm. “Totobee-Rodolow is captured.”
Bridger grunted. “Seems to me my sister was kidnapped the last time we had a mission together. Maybe we shouldn’t take her along.”
Bixby had no experience with brothers, but she had heard that they could be quite callous toward their sisters. Bridger had just confirmed that. She took away her hand and glared at him.
“We’ve got to free her, even if she isn’t to come along.”
Cantor broke in aloud. “What’s he doing?”
Bixby followed his gaze to Tegan. “He’s reading a book of some kind. Looks like a journal.”
“I’m not comfortable with his going with us. There’s something odd about him.”
Bixby screwed up her face and studied her attacker-turned-suitor. “That’s what he said about himself. I don’t see it.” She jerked on Cantor’s sleeve, and spoke to his mind. “Totobee-Rodolow! We’ve got to rescue her.”
“Do you know where she is?” asked Cantor, his eyes still on Tegan.
“No.” Bixby turned to Bridger. “Do you have any idea where these villains would be able to keep her?”
“Juicy kumquats! I’ve been gone three years. How would I know?”
“Well, we’ve got to find out.” Bixby used a reasonable voice, not at all the one that hovered in her throat. “Whom can we go talk to who might have information? Any of your relatives? Your friends?”
“There’s a hot spring where my kin often visit. It’s a nice place to relax and catch up on things happening around the realm.”
“Let’s go there.”
“Wait.” Cantor put his hand on Bixby’s arm. “Maybe there are mor dragons here. We should find them and talk to them first.”
“What about Errd Tos? His men are looking for you.”
“We’re probably safe in the middle of the faire. When we go to leave, we’ll be in danger.”
Bixby nodded and pulled out her crown hamper. “We’ll try to connect with one.” She pulled out a fancier crown with a high rim, with no jewels but plenty of twists and elaborate sculpted metal. It wasn’t her best crown for locating the mor dragons, but the other was way too conspicuous. She placed the two she had been wearing in the hamper.
Bridger and Cantor already had the faraway look of someone reaching with his mind to find someone. Bixby closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and allowed her consciousness to escape the boundaries of her brain.
Her search came up with nothing. In a moment, she opened her eyes. “That’s strange, isn’t it?” She looked at her two friends.
Cantor quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t find one mor dragon, but Bridger should have had better luck.”
The dragon shook his head and looked at Bixby.
“I didn’t find one either. Do you think they’ve isolated all the mor dragons?”
Cantor looked skeptical. “Takes a big jump to get to that conclusion.”
“What do you think?” asked Bixby.
“I haven’t decided. Let’s go check out the springs Bridger mentioned.”
Leaving the crowded market, they headed back to the field they’d landed in. Just before they turned a corner, Bixby looked back. Tegan followed them but read as he walked, absorbed in his book. She wondered why Primen had caused their paths to cross. Curiosity niggled at her brain. Why did he think he was odd? What kind of odd? She doubted he would disappear and never enter their lives again. That just didn’t seem to be the way Primen worked.
She had just a twinge of anxiety. Nothing in their future looked safe. A small conundrum like the interesting Tegan would be an easier problem to solve. A lighter burden. More fun, at least.
But she wasn’t making the choices for this journey. And to tell the truth, considering what was at stake, she would gladly leave the whole thing in Primen’s hands. His problem. His responsibility. She would be the minion.
FINDING HELP
Nothing in the Tinendoor valley was far away.
A dragon could fly end to end in the morning and side to side in the afternoon. The poisonous Sea of Joden accounted for most of the distance in the middle. Bridger glided south along the mountain range and soon came to their destination.
A rise in the foothills pushed upward, then dipped before the mountains, creating a bowl-shaped valley. In the center of this geological formation, a myriad of stone columns shot upright. Obviously made by some force of nature, the grouping looked like people gathered for a celebration of some kind.
“It’s called the Family,” said Bridger over his shoulder.
At the feet of statues carved by the environment, green and blue water bubbled out of the earth. One side spouted green foam, and down the other side trickled miniature blue falls.
“Very pretty,” said Bixby. She held Jesha and stroked the kitty’s back.
“But no dragons.” With alert eyes, Cantor did another sweep of the area. “Any other ideas?”
Bixby pointed to a ramshackle building about a mile along the hills. “Let’s ask at that inn if they’ve had any dragon custom lately.”
Bridger banked and began a descent.
Close at hand, the hostel looked better than it had from the sky. Small repairs, fresh paint, and seedlings planted in a long border of the property showed someone had recently invested some time in the old place.
Two children ran out the front door and dashed across the lawn to greet them. They came to a skidding stop just yards away.
The elder, a girl with rosy cheeks, pale blue eyes, and neat brown braids, curtseyed. “Welcome to Halfway There Inn.”
Cantor laughed. “Where are we halfway to?”
The boy, grubbier than his big sister but just as polite, pointed in one direction. “If you’re going south, sir, you’re halfway to Tidoor.” He switched arms to point in the opposite direction. “If you’re going north, you’re halfway to Blendit.”
The girl curtseyed again. “Won’t you come in and have tea? My mum makes the best cakes and pastries in Tinendoor.”
Not to be outdone, the boy bowed. “My pader makes his own brew. It’s tasty.”
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The girl turned disbelieving eyes on her little brother.
He looked down and scuffed his shoe against long, healthy blades of grass. “Or so I’ve been told.” He peeked up at Cantor and winked. “Mum also makes sandwiches and soups and things.”
Bixby turned a laugh into a cough, not wanting to belittle the delightful boy.
A voice called, “Jory, Mack, bring our guests inside.”
In a window with billowing white curtains, a young woman waved. Bixby waved back.
“We have a cat. May we bring her in?”
She had addressed the woman but the children chorused, “Yes!” At the woman’s nod, Bixby started to the door with Jesha in her arms.
Bridger smacked his lips as they followed the children toward the inn. “Tea and trimmings.” In the fastest change Bixby had seen so far, the dragon became a smaller version of himself. He didn’t bother to secure his tail.
Bixby decided to wait until they saw the inside before deciding whether the tail would be a menace.
The inside of the building enveloped them in cool, dark simplicity, brightened only by natural light from the windows. Wooden chairs clustered around several tables. A singing bird hung in a pretty cage. It ceased its delightful warble and cocked an eye at them. Cantor pursed his lips and whistled the same pattern as the bird’s song.
Sister and brother stopped as they wove through the furniture and turned surprised faces to Cantor. The realm walker stopped his tune, and the bird took it up. As soon as it stopped, Cantor had a turn. Jesha ignored the bird and claimed a space on the hearth.
The children laughed, bounced on their toes, and clapped their hands.
Their mother came out of a back room, carrying a tray with mugs and a big teapot, creamer, and sugar bowl. She set her heavy load on the nearest table. Bixby went to help her.
“I’ll be back in two ticks.” The woman headed toward the curtain-covered door again. “Just need to get the pastries and some spoons.”
Bixby poured the tea, sweetened the dark brew with lumps of brown sugar, and lightened it with the cream. Bridger came at once to sit at the table, and Cantor joined them when the innkeeper brought two plates of sweet breads.
“Thank you very much,” Bixby told the mother.
Cantor, Bridger, and Bixby bowed their heads as Cantor thanked Primen for his provision and asked for help in finding the mor dragons.
The mother and children had stood quietly waiting, but at the mention of mor dragons, the woman drew in a sharp breath.
“Go outside now,” she said to the children when Cantor had finished. “Make sure none of the chickens have pushed through the fence and gotten into the garden.”
The children giggled and playfully bumped one another as they left the inn.
Bixby smiled. “What is your name?”
“I’m Mistress Cane.”
“I’m Bixby D’Mazeline. This is Cantor D’Ahma and Bridger-Bigelow.” Bixby tilted her head. “There’s something you want to tell us?”
She hesitated a moment. “How did you know?”
“I just noted little things. For instance, there must be a reason you suddenly cared so much about the chickens.”
Cantor stood. “Won’t you join us?”
He pulled out a chair then returned to his when Mistress Cane settled.
“There are only five mor dragons left.” She looked at Bridger. “Six.”
He nodded and took another fried pie.
Mistress Cane took in a shuddering breath. “They gathered at the Family. My husband knew they were there and went to introduce himself. We just bought the inn, and he wanted them to know we would be pleased to have their custom.”
She paused. Her teeth worried her lower lip. “Before he reached the spring, he saw men hiding and spying on those in the bowl. He thought that strange.”
Bixby and Cantor nodded, their attention fully on the innkeeper. Bridger poured himself another mug of tea. Then, showing his manners, refilled the two other mugs.
“So my husband, Makki, ducked down and spied on them — the ones who were spying on the mor dragons.”
At Bridger’s elbow, a pile of crumbs collected as he ate. Mistress Cane brushed the tiny bits off the edge of the table and into her waiting palm. “He couldn’t have stopped them. He counted a dozen ruffians as he followed them. But he was brave enough to follow them. Or foolhardy enough.”
She looked down in her lap where her hands rested, one clutching crumbs.
Bixby knew the disjointed sentences came from the woman’s distress. Using her ability to scope the woman’s thoughts, she got a clearer picture. The men had overcome the dragons and marched them out of the Family Springs. Her husband couldn’t stop them, so he followed.
She reached over and patted her arm. “Go ahead. You can tell us. We mean you no harm.”
“They’re keeping the dragons locked up. Makki’s been going there every day, to take them food and check on their welfare. He’d help them escape if he could. He’s there now.”
“Crista!”
Everyone turned to see a young man standing at the door to the back room. Bixby detected a strong mixture of outrage and fear for his family.
He strode into the inn. Tense muscles hardened his jawline as he stared at the group around the table. “What are you saying? Who are these people?”
Mistress Cane stood and went to his side. “It’s all right, Makki. They can help us.” She leaned closer. “I think they’re realm walkers.”
Makki groaned. “Oh, Crista, that could make matters worse. You’re too trusting.”
She took his hand and guided him to the table. Cantor stood. After Bixby kicked him under the table, Bridger stood as well.
“Pleased to meet you.” The dragon extended his hand.
Makki cautiously took it. When Bridger let go, the man examined his palm as though to determine if it were still intact.
Bixby bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Obviously, Master Cane had never shaken the hand of a dragon before. He held his hand before him, marveling at not being scratched by those vicious-looking claws. But the man had been willing to invite the dragons to his inn. Fear unsettled him. It shivered around him.
Cantor shook his hand as well, but it was Bridger who talked. “My sister has been captured, they tell me. I wonder if she is with those who were kidnapped from the Family Springs.”
Bixby saw the young man start to question the dragon, then stop himself. She easily guessed his thoughts. He’d been on the brink of asking what the dragon’s sister looked like. A foolish question for a mor dragon. They shape-shifted.
Unlike Bridger, however, most mor dragons could shapeshift to only a limited number of things. And her friend Totobee-Rodolow, who spent too much time using her shapeshifting abilities to design and decorate her body, could only shift into different forms of herself.
Bixby decided to help the conversation along. “Totobee-Rodolow is a fashionable dragon, usually decked out in jewels and brilliant colors.”
Makki’s eyebrows rose. “I know Totobee-Rodolow.” His gaze wandered back to Bridger. “This dragon is brother to Totobee-Rodolow? That’s hard to believe.”
Bridger nodded. “Totobee-Rodolow got all the looks.” Smug and self-satisfied, he looked directly at Makki. His fearsome grin showed pointed teeth. “And I got all the talent.”
FIVE DRAGONS — FIVE BARRELS
They were herded into a small cavern. Soon after the ruffians had them trapped, the King's Gaurd showed up.”
Makki pointed to a dark shadow in the face of the cliff. The moon shone much too brightly for this rescue mission, but Cantor knew they didn’t have time to wait for the moon to wane. Crouched behind Bixby and beside Bridger, he listened carefully to their guide’s layout of the land.
“We can enter from over there.” Makki pointed to the end of a trailing rock formation that looked somewhat like a tail coming off a huge sprawling beast. “I doubt the King’s Guard even know
of its existence. I’ve been going in and out of the cavern through that tunnel all four days that they’ve been in there.”
Bixby spoke quietly at Cantor’s elbow. “Why don’t the dragons shift shape and leave?? Surely one of them could get out and procure a key or go for help.”
Cantor shook his head. Makki needed to know more about the dragons. “They must not have the ability to shift into things small enough to ease their escapes. We know Totobee-Rodolow can’t.”
“I think they’re drugged,” Makki said.
“Why?”
“They don’t seem to be upset that they’re being held against their will. In fact, at times, I think they don’t even realize they aren’t allowed to leave.”
“Drugged, for sure,” said Bridger. “My sister hasn’t been shopping in four days. That’s not natural.”
Makki pointed in the other direction. “That’s where the beast comes from. The hole that looks like an eye socket on the skull of a steer.”
The cave had a rock ledge before it, but other than that, it was a sheer drop to the ground below.
“It flies?” asked Bixby.
“Yes.”
“Then it’s a dragon.” Cantor stated his opinion as fact. He didn’t care for the fanciful interpretation Makki had put on the animal. The innkeeper thought it resembled a demon’s dog.
Makki shook his head. “It doesn’t look like a dragon.”
“But it has wings?” Cantor asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s big, you say?”
Makki nodded, the muscles in his jaw tensing.
Cantor worked to keep his tone patient. He really wanted to snap this man out of his delusion. But when a realm walker came into a situation that required his help, there was no room for lording over the people in need.
“Can you think of any animal that has wings to fly?”
Makki sighed. “Just dragons.”
Bixby had been biting her lower lip. A sure sign of deep thought. “Maybe it’s a dragon who has shape-shifted into this beastlike thing.”
Bridger growled. “That would be abhorrent to any mor dragon. We are raised to fulfill a destiny. There are a few who’ve gone astray. But they chose to live far, far away rather than face the scorn of the rest of the clan.”