Paladin stood with his hand resting on the crown of the farmer statue’s hat. He looked at Verrin Schope. “What next?”
“Wizard Fenworth and I will spend a few minutes untangling the weave of the gateway. Runan added some interesting distortions, and we want to break those.”
Librettowit, Tipper, and Paladin stood to one side and watched. Tipper saw the two men fingering something in the air but could not see what.
“Can I learn to do that?” asked Paladin.
Librettowit nodded. “If you can see it, you can learn.”
He put his hands on his hips and appeared to study the movements of Tipper’s father and the wizard from Amara.
Tipper asked, “Why does it matter which way the statues face?”
Librettowit shook his head. “It’s all very complicated. The original gateway was constructed for long distance. The weave is strong, but only one or possibly two people could move through the gateway at a time. Runan took the basic framework and improved the function. His configuration allowed the passage of great numbers. However, this new pattern involved reversing the stones. Reversing the stones disrupted the natural energy flow and is as bad a situation as having the stones disconnected altogether.”
“They’re ready,” said Paladin.
He and Librettowit stepped forward, and Wizard Fenworth stepped back.
“Counterclockwise,” said her father.
He, the librarian, and Paladin carefully rotated the statues in unison.
“So far, so good,” muttered Fenworth. He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed at the procedure with a gleam in his eye.
“Nothing could go wrong, could it?” Tipper’s voice squeaked.
The wizard said nothing.
The men pushed the statues into a tight circle.
“Ah, good!” said Fenworth. “Nothing exploded.”
Verrin Schope tweaked the arrangement of the statues until the way each touched the next satisfied his artistic sensibilities.
Fenworth leaned closer to Tipper and whispered, “Very important that the energy field aligns perfectly.”
“Exquisite!” declared Bealomondore as he came down the corridor. “Divine!” He quickened his step and beamed as he studied the grouping of sculptures. “Magnificent!”
Tipper’s chest swelled with pride. The work before her proclaimed her father’s talent like no other she’d ever seen. The figures pulsated with an unseen power.
Bealomondore frowned and looked at the others in the corridor. “I apologize, but I’ve been sent to bring you back to the king. We must drag ourselves away from this splendid display and attend His Majesty.”
They started down the hall. At the top of the stairs, Paladin announced that he wanted to go up to the roof to arrange for the reception of their dragons.
“I’ve called them to come, and I don’t want the palace guards thinking this is another invasion. I’ll be with you soon.”
The king indicated that Lady Peg and her assembly were to move into a private sitting area. Beccaroon followed reluctantly. He found it hard to be civil to those who had caused such unnecessary hardship on the family he loved.
Once beyond the sight and sound of the melee, the king commanded them to sit, and an awkward conversation began. Both Librettowit and Bealomondore were conversant in social situations. Beccaroon contributed, but only to ease the discomfort of Lady Peg and Tipper.
Librettowit, Bealomondore, and Beccaroon gave an account of the unusual happenings of the last few weeks. Lady Peg said nothing. Junkit sat on Lady Peg’s lap and looked like a guard. Tipper’s mother stroked his back and sides, but he didn’t relax. Verrin Schope merely affirmed the more unbelievable aspects of the tale.
Queen Venmarie entered and came to sit by her husband, but she kept her eyes averted and her chin tilted upward. Beccaroon controlled the sarcasm tickling his tongue. He had the urge to ask Her Highness if she found the present company distasteful.
She sniffed. “You’ve brought a foreign prince to our court?”
Beccaroon sighed. Her tone answered his question.
Paladin appeared at the door as if called. He strode over to the king and bowed. “Your Highness. I have a report from your captain of the guard. He wishes to speak with you when you are free but assures you that his squadron is firmly in control. I offered my services, but he said I might be needed here.”
Queen Venmarie clicked her tongue. “I don’t see that you are needed anywhere.”
A thoughtful look crossed Paladin’s face. He didn’t seem to take affront at the queen’s tone. Tipper did not hide her feelings well. The resentment in his girl’s heart was etched on her face.
Fenworth, asleep in a chair, snorted. The queen looked down her nose at him and turned away.
Paladin addressed the king. “May I sit with you, Your Highness?”
The king nodded and indicated a chair next to Lady Peg. “You fought valiantly and with great skill. Had you not been present, many more of my people would have been slain.”
A smile quirked the corner of Paladin’s mouth. “You swing a mean scepter yourself, Your Highness.”
King Yellat snorted a laugh. The reaction died quickly. Indulging in merriment lightened the mood only momentarily. The evidence of evil still lingered outside the door.
Paladin sat and leaned slightly forward, glancing from the king to the queen and back. “I will speak of treasure, if I may?”
The queen’s eyes narrowed, but the king nodded.
“Mushand’s desire for works of art warped his perception of the world. He thought what he deemed treasure was also desired by everyone else. In his mind, the more treasure he had, the more envy he generated in all those around him. It never occurred to him that his servant would rather have a piece of cake than own a picture. He assigned his values to others.”
Beccaroon studied the circle of individuals sitting in comfortable chairs in a room designed to reflect the name of the palace. Gold, yellow, and warm browns accented the furnishings. His weary friends were not tidy or even presentable. After all, they’d been through a lot. The king and queen were haughty even with rips in their lace and brocade.
Beccaroon had two desires. He would like either to get up and walk away from this place with his own people, leaving everyone else behind, or for the cold-hearted royalty to drop their pride and embrace Lady Peg and her family.
And this paladin chose to talk of treasures. Awk!
The room misted, reminding Beccaroon of the gas that had choked them in Mushand’s gallery. But this fog drifted in as naturally as the morning haze in a stand of trees. No one in the room moved. No one panicked at the unusual sight.
Paladins warm voice conjured up a picture in the middle of the room, in the midst of the fog. Beccaroon relaxed with the other individuals in the room and watched the unfolding scenes with a sense of wonder.
“Lady Peg as a child used to escape her nanny.”
A small child in a dirty dress and pinafore ran through the palace halls. She burst into a roomful of well-dressed ladies and thrust her grubby hand in the queens face. A precious red feather slipped from her fingers and fell on her mother’s lovely silk skirt.
“Mushand thinks everyone admires his treasure. Peg thought the same. Mushand wants to hoard his beauties. Peg wanted to share.”
The fog grew heavy and cleared a bit. In the new scene, the queen promenaded along a garden trail. Behind her trailed three children. One was obviously Soo, neatly attired, walking primly. Beside her was an empty dress with a bonnet hovering where a head would be. The empty dress followed her mother with graceful moves and complete adherence to decorum.
Beccaroon smiled as he spotted the third child. This was Peg, hair in disarray, bows untied, hem of her dress muddied, the fingers of her white gloves black with grime, and the lace of one sleeve torn and fluttering in the breeze.
Beccaroon realized with a gasp that Peg was supposed to be inside the empty dress. There had not been three childr
en. As he watched darling Peg, she skipped into a bed of flowers, picked up a bug, twirled in the sunshine, then began to fade, becoming translucent until her image was gone. In the distance, the queen could be seen following the well-groomed trail with a child and an empty dress stepping properly behind her.
Again the haze grew thick, and this time the air chilled as well. When the mist cleared, a little girl sat in a hayloft admiring a batch of new kittens. She scrambled down the ladder when called and appeared before her father. The child was older by the time she reached her father, but hay still clung to her hair and dress.
Beccaroon shivered as the father pointed to a doll and demanded it be put away. The child hugged it quickly and shut it in a carved wooden box.
“This little girl,” said Paladin, “was trained to keep her treasures out of sight.”
Queen Venmarie gasped.
“Yes,” said Paladin, “she grew to become our queen.”
The mist in the room cleared.
“Treasures. Displayed and gloated over. Shared but unappreciated. Hidden because someone else has deemed them unfit.”
“Impressive,” said the king, “but what is the value of this display?”
Paladins eyes gleamed with happiness as he looked from the queen to Lady Peg. The queen no longer kept her eyes focused on something distant. Her eyes were on her child.
“I’ve got it.” Lady Peg held up one finger. “I’m the doll. But when mother grew up, I was me, and she couldn’t get me in the dress. When I was a doll, I had to go into the box. When I was real, I was supposed to go in the dress.” She turned to smile at Paladin. “Is that right, Paladin? Am I the doll?”
Paladin stood and went to Lady Peg, pulling her to her feet and hugging her. “Yes, beautiful princess, you are an adorable doll.” He kissed the top of her head and led her over to the queen.
“Your Highness, I would like to present your daughter, Lady Peg, a treasure. What would you like to do with her?”
Speechless, the queen stood. Beccaroon wondered if she would raise a strident voice or run from the room. He had to do something to sway her. But what? He plucked a feather from his breast and strutted to her side. He offered the plume. For a moment, the queen stared, then with shaking fingers, she took the gift from his beak.
Twirling Beccaroon’s soft plumage, she said, “I remember that red feather.” Tears ran down her cheeks. She stepped forward and embraced Lady Peg. Her voice scolded halfheartedly. “You crawled on the floor, tripping men with swords.”
“You bashed Mushand’s men with a candlestick.”
The queen leaned back and wiped tears from her daughter’s cheeks with a handkerchief she’d kept ready for years in case her royal self ever needed one. She kissed Peg’s cheek. “We’re feathers.”
Beccaroon heard a movement behind him. Fenworth stood beside Librettowit’s chair. “I nap, and when I awake, I find everyone crying.”
Librettowit sniffed. “I’m not crying.”
“The feather story was pretty good.”
“How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough. The ‘we’re feathers’ line was good as well.”
“If you say anything about birds flocking together…” Librettowit’s tone threatened something. Beccaroon wasn’t quite sure what.
“Haven’t an inkling what you’re referring to.” Fenworth grinned.
Beccaroon sidled over to stand between the two Amarans.
“Is this the work a paladin does?” he asked.
“No,” said Wizard Fenworth, shaking his woolly head and smiling grandly. “This is Wulder’s work.”
Appendix
People
Araspillian
Brother of Bealomondore
Bamataub
Unscrupulous businessman in Fayetopolis
Graddapotmorphit Bealomondore
Tumanhofer artist
Sir Beccaroon
Grand parrot, magistrate over his district, guardian to Tipper
Caesannede
Prince Jayrus’s white and gold dragon
Master Dodderbanoster
Art dealer
Wizard Fenworth
Wizard from Amara
Gladyme
Byrdschopen housekeeper
Gus
Dragon Tipper and her father ride on
Hanner
Go-between for art dealer and Tipper Purple minor dragon
Hue
Owner of Hunthaven
Garamond Hunt
Gienella Hunt
Gienella Hunt
Lady of Ragar Court, wife of Garamond Hunt
Prince Jayrus
Dragon Keeper, prince of Mercigon Mountain Range
Kelsi
Purple riding dragon
Ketmar
Black riding dragon
Librettowit
Tumanhofer librarian from Amara
Lipphil
Butler at Byrdschopen
Merry
Blue riding dragon
Orphelian
Wife of Bamataub
Lord Pinterbastian
Wealthy neighbor to Byrdschopen
Rolan
Neighbor to Byrdschopen, gentleman farmer
Allard Runan
Country gentleman
Leatte Runan
Wife of Allard Runan
Sage
Oldest living dragon
Brim Schope
Original owner of Byrdschopen
Eldymine Byrd Schope
Wife of Brim Schope
Lady Peg Schope
Mother of Tipper, wife of Verrin Schope
Verrin Schope
Artist, sculptor, scientist, explorer, wizard
Prince Surrus
Mentor to Prince Jayrus
Tipper
Young emerlindian woman
Trisoda
Barn dragon at Byrdschopen
Queen Venmarie
Mother of Lady Peg
King Yellat
Ruler of Chiril, Lady Peg’s father
Zilla
Wife of Rolan
Glossary
Amara
Country surrounded by ocean on three sides. Located in the northern and eastern hemisphere.
banana bug
A long yellow centipede.
bisonbecks
Most intelligent of the seven low races.
bittermorn tree
A tree with fernlike leaves which close at the first rays of dawn and slowly reopen during the day.
blinker owl
Small grayish owl. The bird ventures forth during the day and blinks rapidly.
boskenberries
An edible berrylike fruit from any tree of the genus Bosken.
broot vine
A tropical plant with a sturdy ropelike stem.
bubble beetles
An insect that gathers around running or falling water.
casting bush
A flowering bush with a bloom that looks like a tiny lure on the end of a leafless stem, much like a fishing rod.
centimonder
An insect with a segmented body and a pair of legs on each segment. The centimonder has large mandibles and a stinging bite.
Cranicus albatteran
The Cranicus albatteran has a slightly longer thorax than the Cranicus batteran. Cranicus albatteran is the Chirilian name for Fineet fineaurlais.
dollopsy
A neurological disease that causes loss of feeling in the extremities and, thus, clumsiness.
emerlindians
One of the seven high races, emerlindians are born pale with white hair and pale gray eyes. As they age, they darken. One group of emerlindians are slight in stature, the tallest being five feet. Another distinct group are between six and six and a half feet tall.
fibbirds
A tiny, brightly colored bird with a long slender bill for sipping nectar and narrow, rapidly beating wings for hovering over flowers.
Finee
t fineaurlais
An insect that burrows into wood.
flatrat
A rodent that appears to have flattened itself to go under a door but is always in that state.
frissent juice
Juice made from the red tart berry of plants belonging to the heath family and found wild in boggy areas. The juice fizzles slightly when freshly squeezed.
grassbender
A thin, plant-eating, jumping insect.
grassblooms
A plant with long slender leaves growing from a bulb and producing fragile bell-shaped blooms.
grawligs
One of seven low races, mountain ogres.
harpenstead
An instrument usually held in the lap and strummed. Buttons control dampers that form the chords.
hot amaloot
A drink similar to hot chocolate.
Izden glass
An ornately swirled glass, first produced in the city of Izden.
kimens
The smallest of the seven high races. Kimens are elusive, tiny, and fast. Under two feet tall.
lickick
A lollipop.
mannacap shell
A porous shell from a mannacap crab. Momile and mannacap shells should not be confused, especially in the kitchen. Ground momile shells are sweet, and ground mannacap shells can be addictive.
mariones
One of the seven high races. Mariones are excellent farmers and warriors. They are short and broad, usually muscle-bound rather than corpulent.
mikers
A unit of money.
molecular malocclusion distress syndrome
A condition unheard of until a near fatal accident in transportation disrupted a core element of stability in the universe.
momile shells
Porous shells from momile crabs.
mud-meade moth
Powdered, the moth is used for strengthening weak patients.
mumfers
Flowers with small, densely clustered petals.
ninny-nap-conder
A type of con artist who uses the appearance of naiveté to dupe his victims.
o’rants
One of the high races. Five to six feet tall.
parnot
Green fruit like a pear.
pippenhen
A small bird belonging to a variety of tree-nesting thrushes.
pordimum
A flower that has more petals than scents.
The Vanishing Sculptor Page 35