One Realm Beyond

  The cart owner took the opportunity to get back in the flow of traffic. Cantor heard his loud sigh of relief as he left the disaster behind.

  “That was odd, Bridger.” Cantor still watched the man as he traveled through the crowd.

  “What was?”

  The man had been swallowed up by the traffic and could no longer be seen.

  Cantor turned to look up at his friend. “That produce man was terrified because he recognized us as realm walkers.”

  Bridger shrugged and examined his sticky hands. “I need a bath. You do, too.”

  Cantor laughed. Melon juice dripped off his hair and down his neck, trickling under his collar and down his back.

  “You’re right.”

  They started walking again.

  Cantor bumped Bridger’s arm with his fist. “Thanks for saving my life back there.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I exactly saved your life. Maybe saved you from being a cripple with crushed legs for the rest of your life. Or you could have been struck in the midriff and had crushed ribs and broken arms. Even if that heavy cart had broken your back, lots of people survive such an injury. You wouldn’t have been much use as a realm walker, though.”

  “Well, I was going to tell you that you did a good job of keeping order and getting people to help clean up. But I’m afraid that would have you rambling again.”

  “Do you know the song about the rambling rose?”

  “I think you sang it the other night.”

  “Yes, I probably did. We should work that out in parts. I’ll take the bass, and you can have the tenor. Or we could reverse that if you like. But I get tired singing falsetto. And it isn’t pleasing to the ear.”

  “Bridger, I think this is the Moor.”

  Bridger looked the long white building over and nodded. “Ah, home for a few weeks at least. I hope we find Bixby and Totobee-Rodolow.”

  Mentioning home and finding in the same bit of conversation slammed into Cantor’s contented mood. Ahma. Home. Odem. Gone. But Odem and Ahma couldn’t be dead. He felt sure he’d know if Ahma no longer lived. And he’d probably know if Odem was dead. He had to find them.

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would know more.

  MEETINGS IN BEAUTIFUL PLACES

  Bixby sat cross-legged on her bed. The lighting in the barren room left a lot to be desired, so she sat on the end of the bed next to the window where the sun streamed in. With her hands, she worked at embellishing a piece of lace. When she was done, the small scrap of fabric would become a fancy cuff, one she could wear with many of her outfits. She’d fashioned flowers and leaves out of ribbon in shades that would go well with her quiet wardrobe.

  She and Totobee-Rodolow had gone shopping for the third day in a row. Bixby couldn’t believe the wonderful finds she had purchased in the marketplaces — fabric, beads, ribbons, and fine, thin metal she could mold easily in any way she chose. Totobee-Rodolow said there was only one more market to explore, and they would do that tomorrow. Imagine being in a city with four large markets.

  Totobee-Rodolow usually came in so they could go through their purchases together and marvel at the wonderful finds a second time. She’d gone to the main building to check for messages, an errand that should have taken fifteen minutes. Concern edged around Bixby’s thoughts. Her dragon was late.

  Voices in the corridor brought her to her feet. She flew across the room and flung open the door. Totobee-Rodolow and her companions sauntered down the hall. With a squeal, Bixby dropped her cuff and ran down the richly patterned carpet to jump into Cantor’s arms. Before the startled young man could object, she released him and grabbed Bridger around the neck.

  “I’m so glad to see you.” She kissed the dragon’s scaly cheek, then turned to glare at Cantor. “What took you so long? We’ve been to some amazing places in the city. But you haven’t missed anything that you would think important. We start our rounds on Monday. We haven’t seen Dukmee yet. And I’ve eaten so much wonderful, fantastic, yummy food!” She looked down at her thin, waiflike body. “And still I could be mistaken for a fishing pole.”

  She released Bridger and hugged Cantor once more. She leaned away from him a bit and sniffed. “You smell good. Like soap and melon.”

  He sighed in relief when she stepped away, but she ignored his attitude. He cast a rueful look at Bridger before he answered.

  “I almost collided with a market cart. Bridger pushed me out of the way, but I still got bombarded by falling fruit. I think my hair will smell for a while.”

  Jesha wound around Bixby’s ankles, complaining in soft mews. Bixby bent over to pick her up, then cuddled her close.

  “I missed you too. You are such a fine cat. Here, smell Cantor. Don’t you think he smells good?”

  Bixby stepped closer to Cantor and sniffed again. This time she breathed in slowly, relishing the fragrance.

  She turned the cat to look directly in her face. “Oh, no. I don’t think so at all. I much prefer he smell like melon and not fish.”

  Cantor’s cheeks pinked, and he turned away from Bixby and the cat to concentrate on Totobee-Rodolow. “Bridger and I are starving. We came to ask where to eat and to see if you two could come with us.”

  “Marvelous, darling. Of course we will take you to the best restaurant nearby. Do you need to be economical?”

  “No, I have plenty of traps with me.” His tone lowered and so did his head.

  Bixby frowned. “Why does having money make you sad?”

  His solemn expression worried her. “The traps are from Ahma’s cache. When we went to visit on our way here, we found her cabin burned to the ground with no sign of her or her livestock.”

  Bridger took over the narrative. “Cantor went to the village but no one knew anything. His Ahma stored the traps in a hamper under the floorboards. The fire hadn’t reached them.”

  Bixby’s heart twisted. “Did you ask at the registry for news?”

  Cantor didn’t speak, so Bridger continued. “He did, but Penny Lunder couldn’t help. She recommended asking at the recorder’s office tomorrow.”

  “We’ll do that,” said Totobee-Rodolow, “but I have additional resources we’ll use.”

  Bixby raised her eyebrows, remembering all the people Totobee-Rodolow knew. Their second day in the city, they’d met Clarart the doorman and had lunch with him at a sidewalk café. He’d been funny and informative, joking about the doings of many of the people dominating Gilead’s social life. In between humorous anecdotes, though, he’d soberly relayed more serious news of plots and intrigue.

  Everywhere she and Totobee-Rodolow went, they ran into old acquaintances of the dragon. Bixby’s admiration of Totobee-Rodolow grew as she watched the way everyone welcomed her warmly and eagerly imparted little bits of information they thought might interest her.

  “Will we talk to Clarart again?” she asked.

  Before his sister could answer, Bridger jumped in. “Oh, I forgot. We came across Feymare in one of the less busy streets, and he requests a meeting tomorrow. Half past one. Conicaty Bridge.”

  “Feymare?” Totobee-Rodolow cocked an eyebrow.

  Bridger offered no answer but looked straight into his sister’s eyes.

  “Oh.” A slow smile lifted her countenance. “That shall be most enlightening.” She turned to the others. “Well, that is tomorrow and tonight we can do nothing. So let’s eat and enjoy with light hearts. Tomorrow we may be required to be all too serious.”

  Conicaty Bridge crossed the Alletain River, which ran through the city. At this point, a lovely park with elaborate landscaping banked one side of the river. Mansions belonging to the well-to-do stood on the opposite side.

  The bridge was designed to accommodate walkers. Small carts could cross, but were discouraged from doing so. Bixby found the views enchanting. Topiary animals populated one large area of the park, a maze of hedges blocked out another patch, and a cluster of statues dotted a large, neatly groomed meadow with a three-tiered fountain at the center.


  Walking paths meandered in and out of all the garden exhibits. Attractive slatted benches provided patrons a place to stop and relieve their feet, or relieve their tension by just taking in the beauty of their surroundings. And in the trees, brightly feathered birds hopped from branch to branch and sang sweet songs.

  Bridger and Cantor strode side by side down the groomed trail. Totobee-Rodolow strolled beside Bixby, who longed to skip and twirl as they followed. She restrained herself for the sake of decorum and also because Cantor’s shoulders were tense. She could tell he wasn’t up to boisterous behavior. He’d been to the recorder’s office that morning and found out absolutely nothing about Ahma and Odem. She could sympathize. If her parents were missing, she’d be out of sorts, too.

  Each time they came to an intersecting of paths, they followed the arrows on the quaint wooden signs. When the bridge came in sight, even from that distance, Bixby saw the man Totobee-Rodolow had pointed out as special in the restaurant. She wondered why all the people in the garden park did not stop and stare. He was obviously much more than a mere man.

  “It’s because they don’t see who he truly is, darling.” Totobee-Rodolow spoke aloud, interrupting her thoughts. “If they notice him at all, they merely think he’s a somewhat attractive man.”

  “Does he wear an obscuring circlet?”

  “No, he needs no artifice to manage illusion.”

  He turned and waved, then started toward them. Stopping at a bench, he spoke to a man and pointed in their direction. When this man unfolded his long body, Bixby recognized him.

  “Dukmee! Look, Bridger, Cantor. It’s Dukmee.”

  Dukmee wore his long, black healer’s cloak. His hair was longer, looking like a black bush tussling with the wind. And he was so pale. Bixby wondered if he was sick or just didn’t go out in the sun enough. A healer shouldn’t be sick.

  Cantor turned and walked backward as he addressed Bixby. “Did you bring the hamper filled with his things? Perhaps he can take them now.”

  She patted the right side of her skirt. “It’s under the second lace overlay, which is under a long silk sheath.” She turned to Totobee-Rodolow. “The bulky lace fits under the sheath because the sheath has splits in the seams to allow a peek at what’s underneath. I’ve got on three more outfits, three of my favorites.”

  She noticed the look on Cantor’s face. He tolerated her crazy fashion fascination. Her manner of dress gave him ample opportunities to tease. He looked more animated now than he had since he left for the recorder’s office. She expected some smart comment, but he turned back around without another word.

  As they met, a clamor of voices rose from the group. One of the many park patrolmen came by and asked them to move to the side of the path because they were blocking traffic. A picnic area with tables offered some solitude and enough seats for all.

  When they’d settled, Totobee-Rodolow introduced the problem of Ahma and Odem first.

  Feymare listened attentively. When she’d finished, he turned to Cantor. “I’ve met Ahma, of course. But I’ve had more to do with Odem. I hadn’t heard that they were missing, but someone in our legion will have heard something. My first order of business will be to initiate an inquiry to get answers and send someone specifically to find them.”

  “Thank you.” Cantor gave a slight bow as to one in authority.

  Bixby studied Cantor’s tense expression and wondered if he felt any relief. Did he doubt Feymare had the ability to actually get something accomplished? It was true that they didn’t know Feymare — but Totobee-Rodolow and Bridger certainly seemed to trust him. Yet Cantor seemed to be too filled with dread to accept that there was now hope. A thought came to mind that made her tremble. Chomountain had been lost for eons. The Primen warriors had never found him.

  “Now I have an assignment for you.” Feymare nodded toward the healer. “Dukmee has told me about the situation in Effram. I want you to report the details to the recording office, but first I want you to drop the same information into the lap of a journalist.”

  Totobee-Rodolow took a short intake of air. “Simon Toolooknaut of the Daily Journal.”

  “Exactly.” Feymare smiled. “Another friend of yours, I believe.”

  Totobee-Rodolow smiled and nodded. “It will be good to see him again.”

  Feymare looked Bixby in the eye, then Cantor, and last Bridger. “I want you three to begin your rounds at the realm walker training center. However, you’ll need to keep your eyes and ears open. Only three councilmen have resisted the corruption. Three out of ninety-nine. Learn what you can, both in your rounds and by being observant. I’ll come back for you.”

  “When?” asked Bridger.

  Feymare shrugged his shoulders. “In a week perhaps, or possibly three months. Don’t lose heart. I’ll return.” He clapped his hand on Cantor’s shoulder. “My first priority is Ahma and Odem. I’ll get word to you.”

  SHINE LIGHT ON THE HIDDEN

  Bixby stopped abruptly in the crowded street. “I forgot to give Dukmee his hampers.”

  Totobee-Rodolow took hold of her arm and tugged her forward. “Don’t worry, darling. We shall see him again soon. Probably he’ll be with Bridger and Cantor when we meet for dinner.”

  Bixby allowed herself to be pulled along by the dragon. Again, Totobee-Rodolow’s pace was too quick for her to keep up, so she conveniently floated.

  The dragon made odd choices in choosing which way to go. Each street seemed more off the beaten path than the last. “Did we take a wrong turn, Totobee-Rodolow?”

  “Have faith, darling. I know just where we’re going.”

  After a dozen more turns and twenty minutes of walking, the streets looked more squalid and the buildings more derelict than anything Bixby had seen in Gilead so far. The occupants stepped back to let Totobee-Rodolow and Bixby pass. But they stared, and Bixby grew nervous. “This neighborhood gives me skin shivers.”

  “Be patient, darling. We’re almost there.”

  Totobee-Rodolow stopped at the opening of an alley. The buildings stood so close together, even in the daytime, darkness shrouded the narrow way.

  “Oh no!” Bixby’s feet slammed down on the pavement and she dug in her heels. “We can’t be going in there.”

  “But this is where the man is that we want to see.”

  “If this is where he lives, maybe he’s not the kind of man we should want to see.”

  “Oh, now what could be the problem, little one?”

  “It’s dark and there are puddles, dirty puddles, and thugs could be behind those boxes, ready to jump out at us. And it stinks.”

  “Darling, reach in your hamper and bring out a crown that will make you more comfortable.”

  Bixby grabbed her tiara hamper from the folds of her skirt.

  “When you have on the proper head embellishment, you’ll feel more confident. Then you need only remember to smile, and we shall lighten up this unfortunate corner of the world.”

  Bixby held up a twist of bronze flowers. “Maybe this one?”

  “What does that one do, dear?”

  “Heightens my hearing.”

  Totobee-Rodolow looked thoughtfully down the alley. “No, I really don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “This one? It gives me the ability to read the aura around a person so he or she can’t hide his feelings from me. I’d know if someone was feeling hostile and edgy.”

  “Edgy?”

  “Ready to attack.”

  “No, no, not quite right for this situation.” Totobee-Rodolow studied her for a moment. “Do you have one that gives you courage?”

  Bixby’s shoulders slumped. “I always thought I had an adequate amount of courage.”

  “Of course, darling. I’ve noticed you generally tackle a situation with no qualms. What do you think the problem is here?”

  “I’m not dressed for an unexpected event.” She passed her hands over the lovely dress she wore over lace and hand-tatted skirts. “I wasn’t expecting puddles
.”

  “Well, now, we can fix that. I understand perfectly that it is easier to face a difficult situation when you know you’re properly attired. It’s a shame you aren’t a shape-shifter, but you’re well enough equipped. I shall become a little larger to block the view from the street, and I’ll put a wing over you for a little added privacy. You rearrange your clothing to better suit our purpose.”

  Bixby stepped into the alley entrance as the mor dragon increased in size. “Oh, thank you, Totobee-Rodolow. It’s so good to have a constant who understands.”

  Bixby noticed that her dragon friend didn’t say she was only a temporary constant. She busied herself getting ready.

  “I’m ready to shield you.” Totobee-Rodolow extended her right wing.

  Bixby began peeling off the layers. Her clothing used many ties and belts and other accoutrements to add to her style, so unfastening and shedding the superfluous doodads took a minute. She pulled out a hamper to store things as she undressed and dressed again. Some skirts and blouses she immediately tucked away in the hamper. Others she draped over the dragon’s right knee, which was handy. When she got down to her thermea, she began dressing again, taking care to put the lighter clothing beneath and the darker bits and sturdier pieces on the outside. She tested her range of motion so that if trouble erupted, she would have ample ability to be swift and unrestrained.

  She tucked the last two stray garments into the hamper and secured the bag under the first layer. “I’m done.”

  Totobee-Rodolow’s wing moved, and she peeked under. “Are you feeling more confident, darling? You look exquisite as always.”

  Bixby curtseyed. “I feel much more prepared.”

  “And what tiara did you choose?”

  “Discerning.”

  “Good job. Anything else we need to take care of?”

  Bixby narrowed her eyes as she thought about problems that might arise from this visit. “Should I have weapons at the ready?”

  “Darling, one should always have weapons at hand.” She patted Bixby’s shoulder. “But sometimes a sharp tongue parries an evil intent. A witty retort may stymie an enemy. And best of all, a kind and generous reply can take the wind out of the sails of a foe.”