Kale climbed back down the ladder and nodded at the men who glanced up from their game of cards.
She shivered as she recrossed the open space between the stables and the huge stone manor. A cold wind whipped under her cape.
Regidor responded. “Brr. It’s cold in here. Be sure what you bring is hot.”
She stomped back into the heated kitchen and went to warm her hands by the hearth.
“See if you can find an extra blanket, too.”
First let me see if I can get a bowl of stew. Then I’ll think about bedding.
She casually surveyed the other people in the room. Only Bardon seemed aware of her presence.
“I’ll cover for you while you take something to Regidor.”
Her eyes popped open. His voice in her mind proved her point. Bardon could and did mindspeak. His talent would have to be addressed.
Does he know the etiquette Leetu Bends drilled into me? Does he know how to protect himself?
Kale looked away from the bothersome lehman and spied a clean bowl on a preparation table. She crossed the room, picked it up, and returned to the fire. No one seemed interested in her actions. Many of the workers had finished their chores for the day. They relaxed around a table, enjoying their supper and swapping bits of household news. Other servants still carried trays of food to the dining hall and brought back empty dishes.
The gleaming platters on large polished trays held delicacies she had never seen before. The aroma filled her nose like a promising potion.
Kale ladled stew, chunky with large cuts of meat and vegetables, into the bowl. She then sat in an out-of-the-way corner and pretended to eat, watching the activity around her. At an opportune time, she slipped out the door to the main part of the hall and followed a shadowy corridor to stairs that led to the bedrooms. With her mind on her meech friend, she followed the instinct that would lead her to his room.
I’m coming, Regidor.
“Good. I’m famished.”
I’ve got a large bowl of stew. It’s delicious.
“Can you find me?”
I think I could find you in a tumanhofer mine with all its twisting, turning tunnels.
“Kale, your talent is truly remarkable.”
She stopped in the dark hallway. Remarkable?
“Yes, remarkable, but keep moving. I’m hungry.”
Regidor sent her an impression of his rumbling stomach. She grinned and quickened her steps.
Once she had to duck into an alcove to avoid passing a maid coming back from an errand. Twice she passed rooms on tiptoe, knowing someone was working within. A dog rose from guarding another chamber and challenged her with a soft growl.
“It’s all right, fella,” she said as she approached. “I don’t want to go into your master’s room.”
The dog settled down again. It watched her walk by with only its twitching nose indicating it was interested in the bowl of stew.
She hurried to the end of a hall and turned down a gloomy passageway lit by one flickering sconce. A door at the end opened, and she hastened to where Regidor waited.
“I don’t like this place, Kale,” he said as he took the bowl. He crossed to a stool and sat down quickly, already spooning the broth into his mouth. “Mmm. This is good.”
She sat on the edge of a hard cot covered with a thick, scratchy blanket. “What don’t you like about the manor? Is it just because they put you off in seclusion? That’s Dar’s idea of a joke.”
“No.” Regidor slurped a big chunk of potato off his spoon and smacked his lips as he chewed. “Remember I told you about being able to see something about people. I think it has to do with how much at peace they are with their existence.” He was devouring the stew at an impressive rate, talking all the while.
“But you’ve been shut in this room by yourself.”
He shook his head again. “No, I’ve been strolling the hallways.”
“Regidor!”
“Don’t worry. I had my tail curled around and tucked into the belt under the robe. I had the cowl up over my head. My arms were crossed and hidden in the sleeves. I looked just like a monk on a meditative walk.”
She’d seen him practicing his disguise. He strolled with a measured step, his head bowed, and his entire person enveloped in the clerical robes. Granny Noon had provided the costume, and Kale felt positive it held secret qualities.
Regidor had grown at a phenomenal rate. He stood taller than she now, and his tail, which had been such a cumbersome nuisance to him when he was just weeks old, now fit the rest of his body. He looked so much like an o’rant it made her wonder where meech dragons had come from. They were neither one of the high nor the low races.
“What did you see?” she asked.
“Most of the inhabitants of this manor are just what they seem, hard-working servants. But a few vibrate with an expectation of great wealth. Some battle with memories of misdeeds. Others shy away from contemplation of what exactly they must do to gain this fortune.”
His spoon paused over the bowl. “And the glimpse I got of the master of this manor…” The meech dragon shuddered. “He’s evil. The drive to fulfill his desire roils out a hue of turbulent purples and black. The colors clash and spark, setting off streaks of lightninglike disturbance in the air around him.”
Regidor set the spoon down in the near-empty bowl. “It troubles me, Kale. There is strength in this man I can’t explain.”
“One of Risto’s minions?”
Regidor nodded soberly. “One would assume.”
The loft of the stable functioned as guestroom to the visiting servants. Only Dar, as Librettowit’s valet, had a room inside.
With their stomachs full of delicious supper, all the travelers were ready for a good night’s rest. Bardon and Bruit bedded down at one end where a couple of low-ranking stableboys also slept. At the other end of the loft, Toopka and Kale curled up on a coarse blanket with the moonbeam cape spread over them. The minor dragons hid in their pocket-dens.
In the middle of the night, Kale awoke. She listened for some unusual noise that would have roused her from a very pleasant sleep. Soft snoring filtered between the floorboards. A horse stirred and blew. Another horse stomped nervously, bumped the gate of its stall, and snorted.
She sat up.
A window spread a broad band of moonlight across the loft. Ghostly white hay almost divided the room in half, but Kale could see the men sleeping beyond.
Bardon, wake up!
The lehman hunched a shoulder and relaxed again on his pallet.
Bardon, wake up!
He sat up and looked across the space, directly at her.
There’s something down below. Something besides the horses and stable-hands.
Bardon pulled on his boots, drew his sword from the scabbard beside his pallet, and shifted silently to his knees. He crawled toward the edge.
She followed his lead and crept to meet the lehman at the top of the ladder.
At first she saw nothing but shadows.
“There!”
Her eyes followed Bardon’s pointing finger.
A shadow moved.
She held her breath.
A form moved away from the wall and crossed to the large barn door. He stood inside with the door slightly ajar, his attention riveted on something outside.
What is he? she asked.
“A ropma.”
Kale tried to remember anything she knew about ropmas. Other than they were one of the seven low races and usually occupied themselves herding animals, she knew nothing.
They’re harmless, right?
“He could be.”
What do you think he’s doing here?
“You’re the one who can find out.”
Me?
Kale felt the ripple of exasperation from her comrade.
“Kale, go into his mind and find out why he’s here.”
Oh!
She pressed her lips into a straight line and instantly threw up a guard so Bar
don would not hear her fuming. Of course, she should have thought of it first.
No more stupid mistakes. My thoughts belong to me and Wulder. I stand under Wulder’s authority as I search for truth.
She concentrated on the shadowy form by the door. His thoughts were simple. Only one thing mattered at this moment to the ropma. He must follow orders.
He’s waiting for someone, Bardon.
“Who?”
That’s not clear. It’s someone he’s never seen before, and that’s hard for him. He has a very simple thought pattern.
“Who is he waiting for?”
She bit back an angry retort. It wasn’t easy plucking an answer from a mind that had only a vague notion. Instead of snapping at Bardon, she focused on the man-beast below.
Small.
Covered in hair.
Important.
Nice clothes.
Kale’s hand moved over to Bardon’s arm. Her fingers dug into his sleeve.
Bardon, he’s waiting for Dar.
29
DIRT
What should we do?
“Intercept Dar.”
Good idea.
Kale turned away from Bardon and faced the house. Not that she needed to in order to reach Dar with her mind, but Bardon always flustered her. Most of the time his cool, trained attitude reminded her that he had been in Paladin’s service since he was a child. And she hadn’t even completed three weeks of training.
Dar, where are you?
“In my chambers. Why? What’s wrong?”
There’s a ropma here in the barn waiting for you.
“He’s early.”
You’re expecting him? She turned to Bardon. He’s expecting him.
His face looked as though he’d swallowed a peppernut. “Yeah, I heard.”
Kale took a moment to gloat. So are you going to quit denying you can mindspeak?
He looked away, deliberately studying the dark form below them. “Dar, this is Bardon.”
You don’t have to tell him who you are. He can tell by your voice.
“Be quiet, Kale.”
Kale stifled a giggle. I am being quiet. I haven’t spoken a word.
“You know what I mean. Leave me alone. This is not the right time to harass me.”
Kale allowed the seriousness of their situation to sober her. She nodded.
Bardon ignored her. “Dar, what do you want us to do with this ropma?”
“Keep him from getting caught. He isn’t the ripest berry on the bush. I’ll be there as soon as I can. By the way, his name is Dirt.”
Kale furrowed her brow. Dirt?
Bardon put his hand over hers. Her fingers still rested on his sleeve, and she felt a flush go up her neck as she realized she’d been holding on to him all this time.
“I’ve never met a ropma, but according to the books, the parents name their children after things in their natural surroundings—grass, cloud, rock, stone, rain, bird, bug.”
Kale listened to Bardon’s steady voice in her mind. How quickly he returned to a state of control. Kale knew she was too easily ruffled and stayed ruffled too long.
She decided she could learn to be stoic under fire.
All I have to do is develop the tendency, right? Well, I’m just going to work on it.
“What are you talking about?”
I’m not talking. I’m thinking. And you shouldn’t be listening. It’s rude.
“How am I supposed to not listen? You’re right here!”
He stopped glowering at her and surveyed the area below. He pointed to one of the stalls. A man stood and groped for the latch to the stall gate. He stumbled out of the small enclosure, heading for the back door.
Kale’s head swung back to where the ropma had been standing. Dirt had moved. She couldn’t see him, but she located him using her talent. He was crouched behind two stacked bales of hay.
The stableman who had awakened went out a door at the back.
Bardon, the ropma is going to run. He’s scared.
“We have to stop him. Dar wants to talk to him.”
She swung a leg over the top of the ladder, speaking loudly enough to ensure the ropma would hear. “I’m going to go get a drink. You coming?”
“Sure,” Bardon responded after only a second’s delay. “That stew at supper was good, but salty.”
They crept down the ladder. The wooden rungs creaked under their steps. Kale cast an anxious eye to the stall where more men slept and at the door at the back of the barn. The other man would return.
Bardon and Kale walked toward the front door as if they intended to go out to the well. When they passed the ropma’s hiding place, Bardon sidestepped to come up behind the man-beast, as she went over the top of the bales in front of the creature.
Bardon clamped a hand over his hairy mouth. The lehman’s strong arm encircled Dirt, pinning his scraggly arms to his sides. The man-beast looked like a large rag doll in Bardon’s arms.
Kale went before them, opening the door, then shutting it when Bardon had dragged the kicking, struggling ropma outside. A bright moon in a cloudless sky bathed the barnyard with too much light. They hurried to the back of a row of storage sheds to get out of sight.
She did a quick sweep of the immediate vicinity. The only person up and about was the man who had left to take care of a natural need. He now headed back to his bed of hay.
She turned to look at the ropma. His dark eyes, fringed all around with long, black lashes, widened. Kale could see his panic as well as feel it with her talent.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” she assured the frightened man-beast. “We work with Dar. He wants you to stay here.”
Bardon spoke into Dirt’s ear. “If I let you go, you must not make any noise. Agreed?”
Dirt nodded. Bardon cautiously removed his hand from the creature’s mouth and loosened his grip on the wiry body.
The ropma opened his mouth and squeaked, “Please, please, don’t hurt Dirt. Dirt do what you say.”
“We don’t want to hurt you,” Bardon whispered. “Just stay here until Dar comes. He’s on his way.”
“Sir Dar nice man. Sir Dar save Dirt’s life. Help Ma and Da. Sir Dar nice man.”
“Yes, he is.” Kale patted Dirt’s trembling arm, wondering how old he was. Surely he wasn’t a child, but he acted like a scared boy. “He’ll be here in just a minute, and you can talk to him.”
Dirt’s head bobbed up and down, and his mouth opened in a wide grin, showing remarkably straight teeth glowing white in the moonlight.
“Sir Dar be happy. Dirt remember everything. Everything. All the little things. All the big things. Dirt remember. Dirt important.”
Bardon sighed and put his hand on the man-beast’s shoulder. “I’m sure you are. Sir Dar didn’t want you to leave before he could speak to you. He’s coming out of the manor now. I’m telling him where we are.”
Dirt hopped from one foot to the other in his excitement. When Dar came around the corner of the last shed, Dirt fell down on his knees. “Master, master, Dirt tell you everything. You be happy, master. You be happy with Dirt.”
Dar gently patted the ropma’s head. “Get up now. You don’t need to grovel with me.”
On his feet, Dirt stood a head taller than the doneel. “Grovel,” the man-beast repeated the unfamiliar word. “Grovel. No grovel with Sir Dar. No grovel. Just tell Sir Dar everything. Big things. Little things. Everything.”
“Yes. What do you have to report, Dirt?”
“Report?”
“Let’s start with the big things.”
The ropma shifted from foot to foot and stared at the ground.
Dar laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, Dirt. You won’t get it wrong. I won’t be angry.”
“Sir Dar nice man.”
“Yes. Tell me about the meech dragons.”
“Far away. In the north.”
“How many?”
“Ten. Far away.”
“Are they free?”
/>
“Can’t buy them.”
“No, I didn’t mean we should buy them. Are the meech dragons able to come here?”
“No. Far away. In the north. Far away. No come today.”
Bardon sighed and paced a few steps to the corner of the building. He took up a position to watch the yard.
“This could take a while.” His thoughts entered Kale’s mind as a gentle whisper.
She agreed. But that wasn’t what was on her mind. Bardon, did you see how well we worked together? I knew exactly when you were going to grab Dirt. I knew you wanted me to block his escape to the door in case he slipped out of your hold. When we came out of the barn, I knew where you wanted to take him. You weren’t mindspeaking to me. I just knew.
“Yes, I noticed.”
What do you think it is?
Bardon kept his eyes on the expanse between the manor and the barn and shrugged.
I couldn’t even do that with Leetu Bends, and she’s always been the easiest person for me to mindspeak with.
He fell silent. Kale reached to his mind and met the swirl of confused thoughts. The impressions she received indicated the lehman loathed everything about mindspeaking.
Why are you so angry?
“I’m not.”
You’re angry because you can mindspeak, and you can think with me when we do something together, so we don’t even have to try to communicate. It makes you mad.
“Mad. Angry. Those aren’t the right words, Kale. I’ve always known what I was going to do in my life. I was going to be a knight, a plain, ordinary knight, serving Paladin to the best of my ability. Now what am I?”
You’re still a servant of Paladin. You’re a skilled warrior. You’re an honorable man. You just don’t have the word “knight” in your name someplace.
The ropma jumped up and down. His squeaky voice screeched in the night air. “No, no, Sir Dar. You not go to there. Far away. Many bad people. Bad ropma. Bad bi-becks. Bad grawlies. Bad high people. Not go.”
Dar patted the excited ropma’s arm. “It’s all right, Dirt. I have a lot to do before I could go to the Northern Reach. Tell me about the dragons.”
“Bad. Everything bad. Dragons bad.” The ropma dug his fists into his eyes, grinding away the tears falling down his hairy face. His nose ran, and he swiped it with a scraggly arm. “Dragons bad. Eat Da’s sheep.”