Dragons of the Valley (7 page)

Librettowit wrinkled his brow. “Your art will mean little in a country devastated by war.”

“I don’t believe the enemy can find us. The statues are safe here. We put them in peril by leaving this sanctuary.”

Fenworth stood, dropping leaves and bugs. “I know exactly the course we should take at this time.”

All eyes turned to the oldest and presumably wisest among them. He patted his lean stomach.

“Eat. Solid food. Nourishment. Where’s the kitchen in this establishment?”

The Grawl crouched in the underbrush, sitting on his heels. He could remain in this position for hours. The small creatures called kimens had been a challenge to track, but he knew of no animal that could throw him off its trail. The three kimens never even suspected that he followed. And now he’d discovered their village, each structure obscured from the naked eye but clearly perceptible to his keen senses. Detecting each of their dwellings pleased him immensely. Listening to their debate raised a smile on his ugly face.

He watched the merriment with disdain. The villagers celebrated the statues with much fervor. Obviously their worth included something
more than just artistry. He didn’t know exactly what, but it would be something he’d investigate.

He frowned. He did not know if he could stomach reporting his find to First Speatus Kulson. The bisonbecks he traveled with were the best of Odidoddex’s army—yet still inferior. They needed too much food, water, and sleep. To follow the orders of the fool who led the other fools made The Grawl’s leathered skin crawl.

This venture had been of his own doing. The small creatures spying on the camp had intrigued him, and he’d tracked them for the fun of it. Why should he reveal his findings? Perhaps the information would be worth an extra payment if he waited until the right moment.

A mouse scurried through the tall grass. It paused, stood on its hind legs, nose quivering. Did it sense him sitting so still? With uncanny swiftness, The Grawl snatched the small animal. He tossed the mouse, whole and living, into his mouth and crunched down on fur and bones. Warm blood squirted over his tongue. He chewed a moment and swallowed.

Rising without a sound from his hiding place, The Grawl headed back to the camp. He’d get there soon enough, but it would be a while before he spoke of wizards, artists, and valuable statues.

Hollee did a somersault in the air as she followed Wizard Fenworth. Finally they were going to do something. The week since the arrival of the four outsiders had been interesting but not exciting. One tumanhofer drew, the other wrote, the wizard slept, and the beautiful emerlindian investigated every aspect of the village. Hollee enjoyed going with Taeda Bel as she explained how things were done in the kimen village, but now that her wizard was awake and muttering, things would happen. She just knew it.

The other kimens joked about Hollee’s attachment to the scatterbrained old man, but she thought the possibilities for fun and adventure abounded within his quirks and foibles. Taeda Bel enjoyed the emerlindian Tipper. Their personalities matched. Maxon would probably be stuck in the village, watching the painter paint. How boring. Fenworth would surprise her, and Hollee couldn’t wait to see what he did next.

They crossed the village clearing and entered the woods, coming to the door of Bealomondore’s specially designed quarters.

“Confound it!” said the wizard. “How do you knock on this thing? I don’t suppose there is anything as practical as a doorbell.”

Hollee stepped forward to help, but before she could rattle the branches, the door swung open to reveal the tumanhofer artist with a smock over his elaborate clothing and a paintbrush in his hand.

“I heard you,” he said. “Come in, come in. I’ll show you my latest drawings, all mere sketches but magnificent, and the painting I started this morning.”

“Hurray! I want to see,” said Hollee. She entered the bower abode, dancing forward on her toes.

“You work rapidly,” Fenworth observed as he walked into the well-lit room Bealomondore had fitted out as his studio.

Hollee skipped around the room, examining the pictures and recognizing her friends. The wizard followed at a more sedate pace. With his hands clasped behind his back, he mumbled as he moved from sketch to sketch. Bealomondore kept in step with him, leaning close as if to catch a word or two from the wizard’s incoherent muttering.

“You are wringing my nerves, sir.” He hurried to block the man’s progress to the next picture. “Are those positive or negative comments, Wizard Fenworth?”

The wizard turned abruptly and frowned down at the tumanhofer. “Eh? What? Tut, tut, man. Don’t be in such a twitter.”

“Do you like them, sir?”

“Like kimens? Of course I do. What’s not to like about a quick, cheery, clever kimen?”

A grin spread over Hollee’s face. She loved the wizard’s way of saying things.

Bealomondore sucked in a long breath and let it out slowly. “The drawings
of
the kimens. Do you like them?”

Hollee sat down, directing her full attention to the conversation. A squirmy intuition in her belly told her this would be entertaining.

The wizard’s frown deepened. “What do you care if I like them or not? Do
you
like them?”

“Well, y-yes.”

“Good.” He clapped a hand on Bealomondore’s shoulder. “Shows you have good taste. These are excellent. Finest I’ve seen. You’ve been working hard. Time to take a break. Look at other things.”

“I’m not tired at all. This project energizes me. And I haven’t even started on the ropmas.”

“Mustn’t do it all at once. I have a job for you.”

Hollee’s head bobbed in anticipation. She knew the wizard’s scheme, and she knew the tumanhofer would object. Which stubborn man would come out on top?

“A job?” Bealomondore backed up.

“Yes, you and I will go have a look at this enemy.”

Hollee sat up straighter. This wasn’t exactly what she expected. The wizard had been muttering all morning about a trip to Ragar to get more information from King Yellat and Paladin. He also planned to gather information on the way.

The tumanhofer went rigid. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“It will only take a day or so. We don’t have to search for them. Hollee knows right where their camp is.”

Hollee frowned. This dangerous mission might not be enjoyable. Still, The Grawl couldn’t see her, and she found the intruders fascinating.

Bealomondore shook his head and backed up another step. “No, thank you. I am quite content to do what I do best. I am recording this culture for those who will never have the pleasure of living among the kimens.”

Fenworth let out an exasperated sigh. “Librettowit.”

“What?”

Giggling, Hollee explained, “The librarian is writing a paper to be published. On kimens. He plans another on ropmas.”

“Tumanhofers!” The wizard took his hat off and rammed it back on his head.

Hollee frowned. She was sure the paper was on kimens.

Wizard Fenworth pulled his beard, and Hollee hopped to a different position to see what creatures fell out. She counted two beetles, a salamander, and a centipede.

Fenworth paced back and forth in the small area cluttered with the
artist’s tools and pictures. Bealomondore jumped to save an easel from crashing to the ground.

“Tumanhofers are infuriating travel companions. They can always think of a reason to procrastinate.” Fenworth stopped in front of Bealomondore. “You’re a hero, man. Act like one.”

“No, I’m an artist. And I
am
acting like one.”

“Weren’t you with us on the quest? Yes, you were. I remember. We found the statues, vanquished insidious evil. The entire journey was great as far as questing and heroing goes. But you’ve just had a small taste of victory over disaster. Surely you long for more.”

“Yes, I admit I had my bite of conquering villains, and because of it, I’m up to my gullet with the unpleasant business.”

Hollee cringed. Would her chance for adventure be smashed by this reluctant tumanhofer?

The wizard sighed, flapped his arms against his sides, and nodded. “I don’t really blame you. I hate questing myself. It’s a most uncomfortable business.” He grasped the lapels of his robe and laid his chin on his chest, frowning ferociously. “But I want to see this thing called The Grawl. Must be some kind of grawlig with a name like that, and grawligs are ornery, not particularly dangerous.”

Wizard Fenworth reached inside his robe and searched his pockets. “Tut, tut, oh dear. Have I forgotten them?”

Bealomondore lifted an eyebrow and watched the other man with unbridled suspicion on his face. “What are you looking for?”

“Things.”

“What things?”

“Ah, here’s one now.” Fenworth pulled a sword from a hollow just as he might pull it from a sheath. “A warrior’s sword. Very handy.” He held it out to the tumanhofer. “Hold this.”

Bealomondore hesitated, then took the weapon. The weight of it pulled his arm down so the tip touched the floor.

Fenworth continued his rummaging. “Here somewhere. Tut, tut. What’s this?” He brought forth a scrap of cloth. “I haven’t the foggiest idea where this came from.”

Hollee eyed him, wondering what fantastic thing he might do with that bit of material. He blew his nose on the scrap, took off his hat, and poked the makeshift handkerchief inside.

“Cleaning, Hollee. The hat cleans as well as mends.” He replaced the hat on his head, then removed it again. He stuck his arm in the crown all the way up to his shoulder, then smiled.

“You found something, sir?” asked Hollee, trying to be still and not wiggle with anticipation.

“What? No. No, no. Just a touch of aches in the old bones. Elbow to be exact. The hat is certainly useful.” He pulled out his arm, flexed the joints, and then dove into his inner pockets once more. “Here, here,” he announced as he removed two limp pouches. He handed them to Bealomondore. “A bag of money. A bag of food.”

The tumanhofer shifted the sword to lie across his other arm so he could take the pouches.

Fenworth grinned. “I’ve found the lot.” He began loading Bealomondore’s arms with packages and various items. “A tent, a blanket for when it’s freezing, a cooling sheet for when it’s unbearably hot, cooking spices, cooking utensils, eating utensils, maps, traps, wraps, and this thingamajiggy, a perpetual lamp, an antidote for most poisons, a hunting knife, a soldier knife, and a butter knife. That should do it.” He patted his sides. “Oh, wait.” He reached in one more time and produced a small brown paper bag. “Tea.” He held up a finger again. “You’ll need a garment to carry your belongings in. I’ll mention it to Winkel.”

The tumanhofer’s expression changed from suspicious to outraged. “Are you giving this to me?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t need all this,” Bealomondore sputtered. “I’ve never owned a sword, and I don’t want to. And I don’t need money and food. I don’t need any of this. What are you up to?”

Wizard Fenworth held up a finger while he delved into his robe pockets with the other hand. “Oh, but you might go on a quest, and then you’d need them.”

“I’m staying here.” He looked around for a place to dump his armload of unwanted treasure.

“Yes, yes, I think that’s it.” Fenworth stopped examining his pockets and gestured to Hollee to come. “We’re going to visit the enemy. Artist, are you sure you don’t want to join us? A gruesome beast might make a good subject for a drawing.”

Bealomondore shook his head slowly from side to side. “I’m staying here.”

Fenworth opened the door and looked back over his shoulder. “Last chance.”

Bealomondore’s jaw tightened. He spoke through clenched teeth. “Have a good trip.”

“Thank you. We will. Come, Hollee. I must say I like your name. I like the way it uses the tongue so aptly.” He pronounced her name again with great relish. “Hollee. Hollee, it will be a pleasure scouting with you.”

Hollee jumped up and skipped out. She pulled the door closed behind her and zipped to catch up to the wizard’s long strides. He stopped short, and she just avoided running into the back of his legs.

“The statue. I must take
Evening Yearns
with us. We wouldn’t want something to happen to it while we’re away.”

“But I thought they needed to be together.”

“Yes, yes, quite right. But I took on the duty of keeping that statue safe. How can I keep it safe if I leave it here?”

“Will we be gone long?”

The wizard shrugged. “A day, a week.”

Hollee thought the statues looked fine in the kimens’ glen. A natural backdrop of trees, grass, and bushes with small animals and butterflies added to the scene. Fenworth yanked one statue out of the serene setting and maneuvered it into a hollow with Hollee’s help.

“There now, ready to go.” He marched off again, only to come to another abrupt stop with Hollee running into the back of his legs.

“I must have my walking staff.” He looked up at the trees for a moment, and just before Hollee asked if she could help find the staff, he took off his hat and retrieved it from within.

“I put it in here to be fixed. Remember that, Hollee. Broken things should be put in the hat, left for mending, and pulled out when needed. Unbroken things should be stored in hollows. But you know all about hollows.”