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PRUSHING

Kale entered the gates of Prushing on the roof of their carriage. Sitting on top of the luggage gave her an exceptional view. She could see all around the coach, over the head of the horse Romer, and even into some of the second-story windows. She compared the seaside city with the three cities she had seen before, and Prushing lost in the comparison.

Vendela shone like a jewel on the landscape. With gleaming white walls, azure blue roofs, and colorful spheres, globes, spires, and turrets, Vendela looked like a painting of a resplendent royal metropolis.

The stately urohm city of Blisk rose out of the plain with walls of yellow. The shades blended together in perfect harmony—saffron, tawny cream, sunshine, and a deeper color that hinted of sunset. People of all the high races roamed the wide, cobblestone streets. They dressed in neat, clean, colorful attire and greeted each other with good cheer.

In the tumanhofer city of Dael, where Kale had ventured with her friends the winter before, underground lighting made the smooth streets gleam with a charming warmth.

She shook her head when she saw a man shove a pile of debris on the sidewalk out of his way. Her lip curled in distaste. Librettowit had said, “Prushing is one of the oldest cities in Amara.” And it looked it.

Dreary gray walls surrounded the fortress city perched high on a rock cliff above the northern end of the Odamee Channel. Darkened beams patched the wooden gate like battle scars. Inside, wagon wheels clattered over the rough streets. Bricks fallen from the ancient walls lay in disheveled heaps in dank alleyways.

Donkeys brayed, street hawkers shouted the merits of their wares, harnesses jangled as people hurried to their destinations without a kind word or greeting to anyone they passed. Mostly mariones and a surprising number of bisonbecks walked the streets. Kale saw only a few tumanhofers and o’rants and not one urohm or kimen.

With every breath, she reminded herself that the sea breeze blew over the city. But in the canyons of gloomy streets, the putrid air almost choked her.

Bruit drove them straight to the house they were to occupy. He unloaded them quickly and bade them good fortune.

“What’s your hurry, Bruit?” asked Toopka.

“City life don’t suit me,” he explained. “I’d as soon be out the gate and down the hill to a little tavern I know outside the Port of Prushing.”

“I’ve never been to a port,” said Toopka. She cast a hopeful look at Kale.

“Boats come into the docks on the Pomandando River,” Kale pointed out.

“But that was river traffic,” Dar responded with a wink to Toopka. “The boats in the Port of Prushing come from all over the world.”

Kale tried to imagine the deep harbor with ships from different nations, flying flags she’d never seen before. No clear picture came to her mind. She smiled at Toopka. “We’ll go soon. But I don’t think it will be today. Let’s explore the house.”

The square mansion was built around a grassy courtyard with vine-like flowers climbing the walls. On the first floor facing the street, four rooms and an entryway served to welcome guests. In the back, along the alley, the kitchen and three servants’ rooms offered sturdy, comfortable furnishings. Upstairs, more bedrooms and a study made up the square. Dar, Regidor, and Librettowit would sleep there, while Kale, Toopka, the minor dragons, and Bardon would sleep on the ground floor.

The comrades congregated in the spacious kitchen.

“There isn’t a stable,” observed Bardon looking out a back window.

“There isn’t a cook,” objected Toopka with her arms crossed over her chest.

Dar examined the pantry. “Worse than that, my dear Toopka, there is no food.”

Toopka jumped onto a three-legged stool beside a table. “Kale and Regidor can make us cake. They’ve had that wizardry lesson.”

Kale looked to the meech dragon, who had pushed his cowl back from his face. He shook his head. She nodded agreement, and then looked with sympathy at the little doneel.

“Regidor and I can’t do that without the ingredients, Toopka. We’re apprentice wizards, after all.”

Toopka hopped down and smoothed her blue apron over her black servant’s dress. “Then let’s go to the market. We’ll need food. And I think we should get more servants. This is a big house. I don’t want to do all the dusting and washing and scullery things by myself.”

“More servants is an excellent idea,” said Dar.

“I want to go to the market,” said Regidor, putting his cowl back over his head. “I’ve never been to one.”

“It’s not going to be as nice as the ones in Vendela, I can tell you that.” Toopka grabbed her short woolen jacket from where she’d thrown it earlier and shoved her arms into the sleeves. She headed for the back door and stopped before she turned the handle. “Who’s coming?”

Regidor, Kale, and Bardon followed the little doneel into the alley. Toopka skipped down the dingy passage to the front of the house, taking no notice of the debris and clutter. At the main street, she stopped and looked both ways. Without hesitation, she approached the nearest person strolling down the broken pavement.

“Excuse me, Mistress,” the little doneel addressed the marione matron. “Could you tell me where the nearest market is?”

“That’d be High Hill, but you’ll be cheated there, that’s for sure.” The old woman stopped and pulled her thick, knitted shawl closer around her bulky figure. With a mittened hand she gestured down the road. “Best to go down a ways to Higgert Street’s End. The prices are better, and the produce fresh from the countryside. But don’t buy your fish or poultry there. Go to Bless Me Court for your meats and such.”

“Yes, Mistress. And the direction?”

“Go to the next corner where the clock tower be sitting in the middle of the road. Turn south four blocks. Turn east two more. That would be Higgert Street’s End. I’m glad it’s your young feet going the distance this late in the day. I ache from my big toe to my elbow.” She sighed and flexed her arm as if working out a kink. “Come back by Dolly Road, and you’ll pass Bless Me Court. It’s all uphill and down. There isn’t a way to get anywhere in this city without stretching your legs.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Toopka bobbed a curtsy. “I hope you have a peaceful evening by the fire.”

“You’re a dear child. Don’t be wandering the streets by yourself come dark.”

Toopka grinned. “I won’t, Mistress. I have friends.” The little doneel gestured to Kale, Bardon, and Regidor standing in the alley entry.

“Oh my,” the old woman whispered. “That one looks peculiar.”

“He’s a monk, sort of. But he’s no bother. He’s always medicating. Even when he’s walking around, he’s medicating. He just thinks high thoughts and never asks for things the way the others do. And he doesn’t get fidgety when it takes you a while when he finally does ask for something.”

“I see,” said the old woman, keeping her eye on the strange figure. “You staying in number 469?”

“Yes, Mistress. We just arrived today.”

The marione straightened and hefted her bag back on her shoulder. “I best be getting on.”

“Thank you for the information.”

“You’re welcome, I’m sure. You have good manners for a serving girl. You’ll do well.”

Toopka bobbed another curtsy as the woman continued her trudge up the road.

“That was well done, Toopka,” said Bardon as he stepped out from the alley. “The information you gave her will be common knowledge by tomorrow noon.”

Toopka’s head nodded rapidly. “I know.”

Kale tweaked her furry ear. “And since you’ve never once waited on Regidor, it is amazing how much you know about his habits.”

Toopka shrugged. “I have great mag-nation.”

“That’s imagination. And monks meditate. They don’t medicate.”

Toopka hopped up and down in the cold and tucked her hands under her arms for warmth. “I bet some medicate.”

Kale shook her head. “You don’t even know what that means.”

Toopka tossed her a sassy grin, shrugged again, and skipped off in the direction of the market.


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By the time the four comrades trooped back down the street with their arms laden with foodstuff, the sun rested on the horizon. A glow still illuminated the western sky, but the first star had appeared in the darkened east.

“Don’t they have a lamplighter in this city?” Toopka asked in disgust.

Kale felt a prickle across the back of her neck. Somewhere in the shadows lurked evil men. She stopped moving in the direction of the house and tried to pinpoint their location.

“Bardon?”

“I know, I feel them.”

“Who?” asked Toopka.

“Thieves,” answered Regidor.

“I told you I needed a weapon,” said Toopka with a stomp of her foot.

Out of the dark alleys came a dozen ruffians dressed in black.

“Toopka,” Kale yelled as she drew her small sword, “go get Dar and Librettowit.”

Toopka dropped her burden, hunched down, and ran between the legs of the attackers. In an instant, Bardon and Kale were back to back, fighting with their swords. Three men swarmed Regidor.

Regidor threw back his cowl. His eyes glowed green in the semidark. He whirled with both arms outstretched and two of the assailants went down. The long brown monk’s robe pulled loose of the meech dragon’s frame, revealing his plain tunic, trousers, and muscular body. Regidor’s tail lashed out, no longer bound to his torso by the belt. The third thief yelped as the thick, scaly tail knocked him to the ground.

Regidor twisted just in time to bash one more man with a fist and a second with his tail. He kicked high as a third approached, landing a foot on the man’s chest and launching his own body into the air. He did a backflip and landed solidly.

Four men with menacing clubs circled the meech dragon. Regidor growled deep in his throat, and the next instant fire streamed from his mouth.

The attackers screamed and bolted for the shadowy alleyways. Even the two fighting Kale and Bardon took off.

Regidor stood with his two feet firmly planted, ready for another assault. His tail whipped back and forth in anger. His shoulders rose and fell as he took in deep, rapid breaths, fueling his body for action.

Bardon and Kale turned toward the rapid footsteps coming from behind. Dar and Librettowit were running from the house to their aid. With their swords drawn, they came to a standstill beside the two o’rants. Toopka, out of breath, joined them.

Up and down the narrow street, men in black garb lay crumpled in defeat. Occasionally, one would moan. Two got up and staggered away.

Regidor reached for his monk’s robe, shook it out, and donned it once more.

Kale raised an eyebrow at Dar.

“You saw?”

Dar nodded.

“I thought you said meech dragons were useless in a fight.”

“Apparently the traditions are wrong.”

Bardon cleared his throat. “He moves like a lizard.”

Librettowit nodded. “Agile like a lizard.”

“I don’t think I’d tell him that,” said Toopka, eying Regidor with new respect. “He might not like it.”