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CONFRONTATION

When the companions reached the market field, they discovered two tents had been set up. One sold potions. The other, an elaborate green-and purple-striped canopy over yellow sides, was marked Fortuneteller.

“She’s in the fortuneteller tent,” said Regidor.

“I suggest,” said Dar, “that Regidor and Kale go in to have their fortunes told.”

Lyll raised an eyebrow at the two. “I take it you do not believe in such nonsense.”

Both Regidor and Kale shook their heads.

“Good!”

Dar looked up at his two warriors. “I’m sending you because you have the best chance of influencing Gilda. Regidor, obviously, because he’s a meech. Kale, because she’s the Dragon Keeper. Take the minor dragons with you.”

Lady Allerion placed a hand on Kale’s shoulder. “Gilda’s clever, and she’ll likely uncover your true identity quickly. Deal in truth, and she cannot hurt you. Any deceit will give her the advantage.”

While the wizards, Bardon, and Dar went to the potions tent, Regidor and Kale approached the fortuneteller.

Regidor stopped at the opening, held the flap up, and gallantly gestured for her to proceed. “After you,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Thanks,” said Kale and stepped into the gloomy interior. With relief, she felt Regidor follow. His tall presence behind her gave her courage.

The veiled figure sitting at the back of the tent did not move. In front of her, one lantern sat in the middle of a black table. The flicker of the flame reflected in the highly polished top, making the table look as though fire danced beneath its surface.

“So you are the mighty Dragon Keeper.” The meech dragon’s sultry voice floated across the room. “I am disappointed.”

Kale took two steps forward. In spite of the fact she knew Regidor had not followed her farther into the tent, she spoke boldly. “Paladin sent us to find you. He doesn’t want you to live in bondage to Risto.”

“Oh, I see. He wants me to be in bondage to him. How nice.”

“If you choose to break away from Risto, Paladin offers you freedom. He does not offer another form of slavery.”

“Strange, but your words seem attractive.” She remained motionless for a moment, long enough for Kale to wonder whether or not she should say something to fill the silence.

But Gilda spoke again. “Perhaps this inexplicable attraction is the lure that makes you the Dragon Keeper. However, I am not overwhelmed by your influence.”

The shadows in the room pulsated with her words. Although the lantern had not dimmed, the darkness grew. Kale held her breath as the dragon continued.

“I perceive that you speak out of an honest belief. Perhaps this is the strength behind your persuasive words.” Again the female meech retreated into silence.

Abruptly she spoke once more. “What a pity your belief is ill-founded. You are a slave to Paladin whether you are aware of it or not.”

The atmosphere in the room thickened as if a mist had infiltrated the tent. Kale looked down at her arms expecting to see dew clinging to her skin. Goose bumps rose as the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

She tried to keep her voice calm. “It’s a little dreary in here, isn’t it?”

She wished Regidor would step up and take over. Since he seemed determined to stay in the background, she’d call upon the minor dragons for moral support. She pulled her cape over her shoulders from where it hung down her back. “I brought some other dragons for you to meet.”

Gymn and Metta came out and perched on her shoulders. Dibl took his place on her head. Ardeo snuggled in the crook of her arm, letting off a reassuring glow. The whole interior of the tent brightened.

“So,” said Gilda after a moment, “does the Dragon Keeper keep pets or slaves?”

“Neither,” she snapped back. “These dragons are my friends.” She lifted her chin. “And I’m not Paladin’s slave. But I don’t expect you to be able to understand that.”

She heard Regidor prompting in her mind. “Wulder or Pretender? The Creator or The Destroyer?”

Kale nodded slightly and spoke more gently. “I follow Wulder, who created the world. You follow Pretender, who seeks to destroy Wulder’s creation.”

The female meech stiffened. “I follow only Risto.”

“And Risto follows Pretender.”

“You are wrong. Risto is our leader.”

Regidor stepped forward. “Now that’s a fine tangle.”

He removed his cowl to expose his distinctive meech features. Kale heard the sharp intake of breath by the female.

“What you have,” explained Regidor, “is a usurper whose servant is planning to usurp him. Pretender tries to seize Wulder’s authority, and Risto tries to move into Pretender’s position. That’s going to be a nasty bit of business.” He tilted his head in a gesture Kale knew well, and he spoke even more deeply. “And where are you in all this, Gilda? You are a pawn.”

He moved around the table, closer to the other meech. “But Kale was making a point before we got sidetracked.” He knelt beside her. “You can choose, Gilda, whom you will serve. Creator or Destroyer.” Regidor looked down at the hands she kept so still in her lap. “Put your hand on the table, and I will show you the difference.”

Kale expected her to refuse, but after a moment’s hesitation, Gilda put her gloved hand on the shiny black surface.

“Will you remove the glove?”

Again, the hesitation. Again, the compliance.

As they focused on the meech’s hand with its scaly skin and fingernails that came close to being claws, an image formed in the palm. A small plant unfolded. A stem stretched upward, topped by a bud. The bud opened with pale pink petals uncurling around a golden center. A shadow fell over the beautiful blossom, and the plant shriveled to black stubble. The image vanished.

“Creator or Destroyer?” Regidor whispered. “You can choose, Gilda.”

Gilda clenched her fingers into a fist. “You are a fool, meech dragon.” She snatched her hand back from the table and held it against her chest. “You have to clear the field before you can till the soil. You have to break up the ground before you can plant the seed. Destruction is a part of the process.”

Regidor stood with a sigh. “You do not plow down a field of corn to plant weeds, Gilda. Open your eyes and see.”

Gilda stood. The top of her hat came to Regidor’s chin. With her shoulders squared, she looked poised to attack. Kale felt energy building within the female meech’s body. Kale tensed, ready to spring into action should the woman strike Regidor.

Regidor spoke with urgency. “Why do you wear the veil, Gilda?” He paused for an answer, but the female did not give him one. “Risto told you these people would shudder at the sight of your face, didn’t he? He destroyed your self-confidence with a few words. He chained you to his side with lies.”

“You wear a cowl.” Gilda’s words resounded in the tent like hammer blows.

“I have friends from each of the high races. My appearance does not frighten them.”

Kale felt Dibl stomp his little feet on her head, and she giggled. “I can tell you Regidor was kind of cute as a child, and now I think he’s rather handsome—for a bald man.”

Regidor relaxed, threw her a grin, and waggled the hairless ridge that passed for eyebrows. “I didn’t know you befriended me for my stunning appearance.”

“It’s the charm of your smile,” she answered.

“Go!” The word exploded from Gilda. “I do not welcome your presence. I do not believe this act of camaraderie, meech dragon.”

“My name is Regidor, and I am at your service.” With a swift movement, Regidor lifted Gilda’s clenched fist to his lips and kissed it. “Open your eyes, fair lady. Do not be afraid of what you will see.”

She pulled her hand away from him and turned her back to the intruders. Regidor looked for a moment as if he would lay his hand upon her shoulder. Instead, he shrugged and marched out of the tent. Kale followed.

The three wizards, Bardon, and Dar joined them as they strode away from the tents and toward the village.

“What did we learn?” asked Dar.

“They are very second-rate potion makers,” said Fenworth.

“But none of their products is truly poisonous,” added Cam.

“They are overpriced,” said Bardon.

Lyll smiled. “The poor mother is justified in her complaints against her husband and son’s foolishness.”

Dar nodded. “These tidbits are interesting, but our main focus during Kale and Regidor’s visit with the fortuneteller was to keep them safe.”

Regidor looked back at the two men now standing beside the ornate wagon. “You kept them from attacking?”

“No, we spoke to Wulder, requesting His protection be invoked on your behalf.” Dar turned to his o’rant comrade. “Kale, what did you learn from the meech?”

“I learned nothing except I’m no good at diplomacy.”

Dar touched her arm. “Often the results of our confrontations do not materialize immediately. You more than adequately engaged her interest while our meech friend did his best on our behalf. Regidor?”

“Risto has gathered an army of bisonbecks and grawligs to the west of Bartal Springs Lake. Over five hundred dragons have joined his forces. He intends to swoop south three days hence. His goal is to annihilate anyone who gets in his way.”

Kale stopped in her tracks, seized Regidor’s arm, and forced him to face her. “Where and when did you get all that information?”

Regidor smiled. “Directly out of Gilda’s sweet little mind while you were first speaking to her. She could barely contain her glee, knowing soon your annoying little person and your senseless prattling would be eliminated forever. She’s got a heart of lead, that one does.”

“Humph! I couldn’t get past the block she had on her mind,” Kale admitted. “You followed up with a mighty pleasant speech for one who knew what she was thinking.”

Regidor shrugged. “Well, Paladin expected us to try to persuade her away from Risto.”

Fenworth spoke up. “And what would you say was your level of success in that endeavor, my boy?”

“Next to nil.”

They began walking toward the tavern once more. The minor dragons flew about Kale’s head, trying to draw her attention. She ignored them.

This means a battle.

“So after we have a delicious meal,” said Fenworth, smacking his lips, “and a round of relaxing entertainment—music, I think—”

What kind of forces do we have to meet such an army?

“—and perhaps a few good tales and a good night’s sleep—”

Fenworth said the mariones would turn out as an army to defend their land.

“—what do you fine comrades suggest we do with this startling information?”

Cam patted his damp beard. “Oh, I think we should go stop Risto’s army, don’t you?”

Stop them? Just us? What about the marione army? What about Paladin? Where are Brunstetter and Lee Ark?

“Quite,” agreed Fenworth. “There’s nothing like a mission to save the world to liven up a vacation.”

“We aren’t on vacation, Fen,” said Cam.

Vacation! Ha! And this isn’t exactly a quest, either. For a quest, you go find something and, hopefully, bring it back.

“No, that was last week, wasn’t it? Or perhaps the week before?”

“Last century, maybe.”

“Was that before or after that uncomfortably cold spell, Cam? I do have to say my memory is getting worse.”

“Could it be that you are getting old, Fen?”

Senile! Both of you!

“Never!”