“What do you think, Totobee-Rodolow? Are we still on Derson?”
The whoosh of an opening portal caught their attention.
“Now that’s Algore.” Tegan nodded toward the hole in the landscape. “Algoreans always build fancy homes. Even their shacks have class.”
Rollygon’s eyes grew big. “You can see that?”
“See what?” Tegan’s head jerked back and forth. “What are you looking at?”
“The portal. You can see the portal.” Rollygon joined Tegan in front of the entry to Algore.
Tegan shifted his gaze back. He pointed. “That?”
Totobee-Rodolow allowed a contemplative smile to bloom. “Now that’s unexpected.”
Tegan frowned at her, and then looked to Bixby. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing at all. You’re a realm walker.”
He stared at her, his face reflecting deep concern. Then, for no apparent reason, his features relaxed.
“All right.” He nodded a couple of times. “Does that mean I have to do something?”
Bixby shook her head. “Look, we have to get back to Higtrap and meet our friends. It was nice seeing you again.”
She started toward the open portal.
Tegan’s hand stopped her. “That’s not the portal to Higtrap.”
“I know. We’ll go to Algore, and then find a portal to Derson. We may hop around a bit, but we’ll get there eventually.”
“But the gateway to Higtrap will open within the hour.” He glanced around at the others. “You’ll save time and effort.”
Bixby tilted her head and squinted at him. “How do you know that?”
He blinked.
Tamping down impatience, she kept a level tone. “Most portals open at random. Not necessarily in the same place. Not at any reliable and set time. How can you know that a portal to Higtrap will open within the hour?”
He gave her his considering look, and then shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I’ve been here awhile.”
Totobee-Rodolow had widened one of her hands and placed webbed membranes between her fingers. She used the hand to fan herself. Of course, she had removed her rings and decorated the scales. “It’s hot here. Alius is noted for dry heat across most of its breadth and width. I’m sure we’re on Alius, and I prefer to go back to Derson promptly. Darling, let’s do find some shade and something cool to drink while we wait.”
Tegan proved to be quite useful. He had hampers and nice, useful things in them. Two scrawny, leafless trees didn’t provide more than skinny shadows. Spreading a tarp over them weighed the trees down so they bent alarmingly. Tegan frowned a bit as he stood back to survey the canopy. Then he shrugged and seemed to accept the sag. He’d created shade.
Bixby watched him as he worked. She monitored every nuance in his fluid aura, combining this fastidious study with knowledgeable reading of his body language and expressions. Admitting to herself she was being more than finicky, she also had to concede that not once did Tegan’s demeanor brush against a dark influence.
He bowed to Totobee-Rodolow and swept one hand in front of him to usher her under the trees. “A shady spot awaits your pleasure.”
One of his hampers yielded fruity drinks in glasses with ice. He provided Rollygon a dish of ice cream when that dragon expressed a yearning for toffee and fudge syrup wandering through vanilla. Bixby had her own hampers with her favorites stored within, but curiosity nudged her to ask for bubbling lemon water. Without a pause, he produced her request.
Rollygon and Totobee-Rodolow chatted amiably with their host. Bixby listened with half an ear. The area in the shade was too small. Feeling trapped, she stood and walked out to sit on a boulder.
Rollygon followed. “Why don’t you want Tegan to go with us?”
Bixby studied the dragon’s expression. Earnest and young, Rollygon still saw things in black and white, right or wrong, good or bad. No scale between two extremes tempered his judgment. She’d watched his aura slowly taking on the hues of doubt and second-guessing since they’d left Effram. He really wanted to know why she had formed this opinion.
“We don’t know much about him. Obviously, he’s encountered those who would make him ineffectual. Has he also been seeded with a desire to do us harm? Will he betray us?” Having been under the influence of someone like Errd Tos, Tegan could be carrying a command deep in his mind. One he knew nothing about.
Looking out across the arid landscape, she suddenly longed for the gardens of her parents’ palace. Everything green, tidy, coaxed into the best display of blooms, everything predictable. She shut her eyes. When she opened them again, she gave Rollygon her full attention. “He seems to have a convenient memory.”
“Even if he has fallen into the hands of one of our adversaries, he’s a realm walker. We can’t just abandon him.”
“He can take care of himself. We aren’t abandoning a child.”
“Maybe Dukmee or Chomountain can fix whatever’s wrong with him.” Rollygon’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe Cantor can persuade him to stop asking you to marry him.”
“That isn’t my main concern.” Bixby chafed at the smug look on Rollygon’s face. “It’s far more important to keep our mission from being jeopardized.”
“With all of us watching him, he couldn’t get away with much.”
Bixby shook her head. She couldn’t put into words why she didn’t want the big friendly realm walker to join them.
Rollygon shuffled his feet. “I could be his constant. I could watch out for him and see that he doesn’t get into trouble.”
Interrupted by Tegan emerging from under the tarp, Bixby managed a curt, whispered answer. “No! Go talk to Totobee-Rodolow.”
The dragon scurried past Tegan with a nod and an all-out gracious grin. The sight of a dragon smile can be unnerving to the uninitiated. Occasionally, Bixby still felt the shiver of trepidation at the appearance of Bridger’s toothy grin. Tegan, however, reacted with a friendly nod of his own, not bothered in the least.
He came to stand beside the boulder where she sat. “Hello, Bixby. Are you busy?”
“N — yes!” She managed a smile for him. “Do you need something?”
He nodded absently and opened his mouth to reply.
Her smile faded. Oh no. Had she given him an opening for another proposal after all? “I — we — need to help you put your things away before we go.”
“No need —”
“Yes. You’ve been a good host, and as thankful guests, we’ll help pack before we leave you.”
A sad expression took hold even as he nodded. Though he managed a few natural-sounding responses to the two dragons as they all gathered things to be stored in his hampers, his eyes tormented Bixby.
Totobee-Rodolow questioned her with a look. Bixby shrugged, shielding her thoughts from the dragons as she pretended she didn’t know what had come over Tegan. Rollygon’s gaze shifted from the deflated realm walker to Bixby. She watched his aura darken.
Before she could respond with an apologetic gaze in response, a soft swooshing sound, the gentle disturbance of the air, and a change in the light heralded the opening of a portal. They could see the same market they’d been perusing earlier in the day. Totobee-Rodolow, with Jesha on her head, stepped through. Bixby turned to Tegan. “I’m sure we’ll meet again. We’ve got to get back to our friends.”
He nodded. “Be safe.”
“Yes. Right. You too.”
Bixby took several steps toward the opening and stopped. All the teachings of being kind, nurturing those who are afflicted, and being generous even when the desire not to be was strong welled up and prevented her from taking another step. She turned and pulled in a big breath. “Well, come on. I expect you should come with us. Chomountain will want to meet you.”
Joy stamped itself on Tegan’s face and put a bounce in his step. With one long stride, he was beside her.
He looked down at her with clear blue eyes. Happy wrinkles accented his delight. Little bird fee
t spread from the corners out toward his temples. The man was too attractive.
He put a hand on her elbow. “Does this mean —”
“No! It doesn’t.” She grabbed Rollygon’s wrist and marched through the portal without looking back.
FINDING THE RIGHT CLUES
Cantor walked through the marketplace, wondering where in all the planes Bixby, Totobee-Rodolow, and Rollygon had disappeared to. Several shopkeepers said they had seen his friends some time before. No one knew when they had left.
He approached yet another shop. This one sold fragrances. He’d never known either of his lady cohorts to buy scent. Bixby smelled like a bouquet of flowers and herbs. Totobee-Rodolow carried an air of a sunny meadow after a rain shower. But he was pretty sure these fragrances came from something other than a bottle. Still, he didn’t want to leave a stone unturned. Someone had to know something.
At first, the shop appeared to be empty.
Cantor looked around for a bell to ring. “Hello?”
He coughed. The combination of bottled scents dulled his other senses and sent an unpleasant sensation to his stomach. Bixby and Totobee-Rodolow surely had not set foot in this store. He turned to leave.
“Excuse me, sir. I carry the most exquisite perfumes, colognes, toilet waters, natural scents, and fragrant wax. What is your pleasure today?”
Cantor faced the man coming from a curtained door at the back of the store.
“Perhaps there’s a lady in your life? One who deserves a bouquet of exquisite flowers? A bottle of perfume lasts much longer than a posy of flowers.”
“I’m looking for a girl and two dragons who came shopping this morning.”
“Ahhh . . . the princess and her servants?”
Cantor ignored the fact that the two dragons were hardly servants. That was their cover, after all. “They were here?”
The shopkeeper pinched his upper lip and peered over the top of his glasses at his visitor. He drew himself up to his full height, significantly shorter than that of his customer. His expression changed to determination as he made some decision. Brushing past Cantor, he went to the front door. With a scowl, he searched the crowd in front of his shop and glanced to both ends of the street.
He came back with the demeanor of a man much disturbed. “Are you with the guild as well?”
Possibly, these words were meant to disconcert him. Cantor chose to keep his face blank, something Bixby had taught him.
The shopkeeper’s eyes darted to the front door and the back. He licked his lips and returned his hard gaze to Cantor’s face. “Well?”
Bixby and Totobee-Rodolow would not have declared they were realm walkers. Bixby rarely told anyone she was of royal blood. But they had been out to attract attention, hoping that gossip would inform Cho and Dukmee of their presence.
Cantor made his judgment. Yes to revealing her heritage. No to admitting they were realm walkers. “I’m not associated with the Realm Walkers Guild. And neither are my friends.”
The man breathed a heavy sigh, then pulled in an equal volume of air. He nodded. “I feared they were. I could have given them aid, but I didn’t realize your three friends were on our side. Dressed as they were, how could I know they weren’t part and parcel with those lying, stealing, murdering cutthroats that run the guild? Or worse, associates in the king’s immoral and malevolent court.”
“We are on a mission of great import, but we don’t answer to the guild.”
“Who to, then?”
Cantor did a quick calculation of the risk in telling this man the truth. Truth always won in the end, so he accepted the hazard. “Chomountain.”
The shopkeeper’s face scrunched into a grimace of disgust. “So you don’t belong behind bars, but in a loony bin.” He sighed again. “Well, I’ll help you find your friends in spite of that.” He held up a finger. “One moment.”
The shopkeeper went through the curtain and came back in a few seconds. Cantor started to speak, but stopped at the man’s finger indicating he wanted another moment. He checked the street in front of his establishment, then returned to Cantor’s side.
“The princess purchased a large, fragile vase of extremely potent bath oil. She was very specific about the fragile vase. I wondered about it at the time. However, my main objective was to get these snooty, upper-crust citizens out of my shop.”
“I would think that you deal mostly with wealthy patrons.”
“I do. So well-to-do that they can’t be bothered to come to the market. At least, not this market. The market on Blail Street caters to them. I deal with their servants.”
“My friends?”
“They left the shop, and that’s when I suspected my mistake.” He glanced nervously to both exits in the room. “They were being followed by thugs I recognized as the king’s men. It’s as that saying goes — if my enemy is your enemy, we must be on the same side of the fence.”
That wasn’t exactly as Cantor remembered it, but he didn’t correct the man. He wanted the rest of the tale. “They followed my friends. Then what?”
“The thugs jumped them at the narrow intersection.” He pointed. “There. The princess smashed the bath oil over one man’s head, and the one behind him went reeling, overcome by the odor and a good kick from Her Highness.” He grinned with pleasure at the remembrance of the scene. “That’s when I realized the princess was not a part of the problem, the high and mighty lording over us as if Primen had given them special privilege.”
Cantor nearly bit his tongue in frustration. “Did the king’s men capture them? Were my friends taken prisoner?”
The shopkeeper’s face took on the wary expression he’d worn earlier. “No. They disappeared. I assumed through a portal. But since you say they are not realm walkers, then that possibility is nonexistent.” He pinned Cantor’s eye with his own. “Is that not so?”
“I didn’t say we weren’t realm walkers. I said we are not associated with the guild.”
“And the nonsense about Chomountain?”
“Is not nonsense.”
The shopkeeper raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Well, I hope you find your friends.”
Cantor recognized the dismissal. Obviously, the man couldn’t grasp the prospect of Chomountain returning to work among Primen’s people. Cantor grinned to himself as he left the shop. A lot of people were due to be surprised.
Out on the street, a new surge of pedestrians shopped with the urgency of a deadline. Soon the sun would set, and the citizens of Higtrap had a curfew.
Cantor weaved through the crowd to the intersection. The four shops on the corners looked normal enough. At this moment, no portal hung in the air. He stepped into the boot-maker’s and cast an eye over the shelves of footwear. Two customers had the clerk’s attention. Unwilling to ask questions in front of the two ladies, Cantor nipped out the door and across the street. Belnora’s Bakery’s window showed that business had been good. Crumbs on empty platters gave proof of delicious items having gone to fill someone’s belly.
A grumble rose from Cantor’s own stomach. He started through the door, only to back up and give a courtesy bow to a woman just leaving. Entering the cool interior of the shop, he saw that he was the only occupant other than the baker.
That man wore white garb covered with flour and a funny hat that reminded Cantor of one his Ahma had made for him. It had been destroyed in the caustic Joden Sea on Effram. His hat had been a combination of scraps of bright cloth, but the baker’s was stark white, emphasizing the ruddy, round face of the man who wore it.
“I’ve got some hard rolls, a few teacakes, two loaves of peppercorn bread, and herbed breadsticks. Seven of those.”
Cantor had no wish to hear the man’s entire inventory. “Are you Belnora?”
“That I am.”
“Did you see a disturbance earlier, outside your door?”
Belnora tucked his chin and frowned. “Who’s asking?”
“A friend of the lady.”
“You’re as b
ig as she was small.”
Cantor turned and shut the door, sliding the bolt into its latch and moving the closed sign to the window.
“Here now. I’m not ready to close.”
“I’ll buy what you’ve got left.”
“Then I won’t have no day-old for the poor tomorrow.”
“I’ll pay for the goods but not take them.” His stomach rumbled. “However, I would like one of the herbed breadsticks to eat while we talk.”
The baker came around the counter to fetch a basket from one of his shelves. He handed it to Cantor and hustled back to his previous position. His face no longer expressed friendly interest.
Cantor sniffed a breadstick. The long golden roll smelled of sweet herbs and butter. He took a bite before putting the basket on the counter.
“I want to find my friends, the princess and her two dragon companions. I have no desire to cause you trouble. Did you see where they went?”
“It’s against the law to use portals.”
The baker’s announcement made Cantor choke. He coughed, then, slowing the rate of his chewing, he waited until his mouth was empty before he spoke. He’d never heard of a law against realm walking.
“Are you saying my friends went through a portal?”
“I didn’t say anything about your friends. And I’m not likely to, even with the door shut. That’ll be four traps and eighty-nine pins.”
Cantor felt his eyes widen. He surveyed the man’s leftover baking. “That’s an awful lot for this little bit.”
“There’s more in the back. You didn’t let me finish the list, but you did say you’d buy the lot. Four traps, eighty-nine pins.”
Counting out the coins into Belnora’s outstretched palm, Cantor felt he’d been bilked. “I suppose in the morning you’ll charge the poor as well.”
“Of course. But they’ll pay the day-old price. You’re paying today’s value.”
The man’s self-satisfied smirk riled Cantor’s usual calm. “If I weren’t on important business, it would do me a great pleasure to deal with you as a realm walker is prone to deal with double-dealers.”
“You don’t worry me none. You came here by breaking the law. Came through a portal, didn’t cha?” Belnora laughed through sneering lips. “You can’t trouble me.”