39
ARDEO
Kale awoke in the middle of the night. She’d curled herself around a lumpy pillow. One hip hurt where it had settled into a crevice in the poorly stuffed mattress. For a moment she didn’t recognize the room made of rough-hewn beams and plastered walls. Toopka slept in another narrow bed. Moonlight cast a pale glow through the small chamber. Only the corners hid in shadows.
The inn.
Groggy with sleep, she looked at one window. Curtains hung over a single glass pane.
Dibl’s giggle shifted her attention. The three minor dragons perched on the back of a wooden chair, staring at her with joyful expressions. She blinked. What? She started to sit up, but a slight weight on her hip stopped her. She craned her neck to see what it was.
A small glowing mass balanced on the curve between her waist and her thigh. It moved. Kale squinted. The ball of white light stretched, elongating into a neck topped with an angular head. Curious dark eyes blinked at her. The small dragon continued to stretch, showing her his small pointed tail.
Kale’s hand flew to the pouch that always hung around her neck. No longer round with the egg, the flattened sides and muffled crunch revealed the broken eggshell within.
A rush of joy caught her off guard. She laughed out loud. Scooping the shining baby into her hand, she sat up. Her fingers glowed as if she were holding a white lightrock. Gymn, Metta, and Dibl soared into the air, expressing their delight with a chorus of trilling noises and fancy aerobatics.
Kale watched as the baby performed an instinctive bonding behavior. Gymn, Metta, and Dibl had done this same thing. The young creature rubbed his entire body leisurely over Kale’s palm, thrumming contentedly.
“What is your name, little one?” whispered Kale.
The dragon lifted his chin from her thumb and peered at her with eyes that looked too large for his tiny head.
“Ardeo! Your name is Ardeo.”
The flying dragons swooped around Kale’s head and shoulders. Their excitement transferred to Kale and the newborn. Ardeo rolled in her hand. The dragon’s luminescence blurred his features. She couldn’t actually see his face other than the dark eyes. A gleaming haze surrounded his entire form.
“Wow!” Toopka whispered her excitement.
Kale looked up to see the little girl standing at the end of the bed. Toopka crawled onto the hard mattress and eased closer to the baby dragon.
“Can I hold it?”
“Him,” said Kale. “And you can hold him tomorrow.”
“He shines.”
The radiance from the newborn reflected off the little doneel’s pale fur. The baby settled down on his back.
“Can I touch him?”
“Yes.”
Toopka stretched out her hand and stroked the dragon’s belly with one finger.
“What do you think his talent is?” she asked.
Kale furrowed her brow. “I don’t remember a description in the books of a white dragon who glows. I still have them, though. They’re in the hollows of my cape. Tomorrow we’ll look him up.”
“Maybe his talent is glowing.”
Kale held the creature up to her chin and rubbed him softly with her cheek. “That would be enough.”
“Oh yes,” said Toopka. “But I didn’t get to see him born.”
“Neither did I. I woke up, and he was already sitting on me.”
Toopka heaved a dramatic sigh. “I guess I’ll never see a baby dragon hatch.”
“I have four more eggs, Toopka. Surely someday you’ll be in the right place at the right time.”
The little girl nodded but didn’t seem to hold out much hope.
Kale scooted over on the narrow bed. “Here, you crawl in with me. We need to go back to sleep. In the morning, you can hold Ardeo.”
Toopka scrambled into the warm bed beside Kale. She squirmed a bit to get comfortable and then lay with her head on Kale’s shoulder. She stared at the little dragon cupped in Kale’s hands and resting on her stomach. “He’s beautiful.”
“Yes, he is. He looks like the moon, doesn’t he?”
A knock on the door woke the two sleeping comrades and four minor dragons. Bardon spoke from the hall.
“We’re leaving early this morning.”
“All right,” Kale called back.
The dragons nested on top of her and the covers. When she shifted, they flew off with grumbles voiced deep in their throats.
Toopka had to be prodded to get up and move. Kale hurried to dress and get both of them ready to go. The dragons crawled into their pocket-dens even before she put the moonbeam cape over her shoulders. After a bite of breakfast, the party of questers boarded the carriage in time to watch the sun rise over frost-covered fields.
Toopka stood behind Bruit’s bench and hung over Bardon’s shoulder. A big bump tossed her forward, but she caught herself by grabbing Bardon’s neck. He disengaged her with a swift movement and placed her in his lap. She snuggled into the warmth of his chest.
“We have a surprise,” she said, with a mischievous grin lighting her face.
Bardon roughed her hair. “What is it?”
“You have to guess.”
Bardon glanced back at Kale and then down at the little girl in his lap. He grinned at her. “This isn’t exactly fair, Toopka. Kale can’t keep secrets from me.”
“Will you mindspeak with me? Do you think I could learn how to do it? I mean, start it. I can answer when Kale talks to me in my mind, but I can’t start it.”
“After I see this new baby dragon, Toopka, I’ll mindspeak with you. But I don’t think you can learn to do it if Wulder hasn’t given you the gift.” He stood and stepped over the back of the driver’s perch.
Kale pulled out Ardeo as Bardon sat next to her.
“Oh no!” cried Toopka. “He’s dead!”
“No,” said Kale, but worry trembled her voice. “He’s not dead. He’s breathing.”
“But he’s ugly, and he’s not moving.” Toopka clutched Kale’s arm. Her eyes filled with tears.
Blotches of gray mottled the baby’s dull white skin. Kale stroked Ardeo’s side as he snored softly. Metta, Gymn, and Dibl squirmed out of their pocket-dens and gathered around the littler dragon.
“They say he’s all right. He’s just sleeping.” Kale reported the impressions she had from the minor dragons.
“But he’s ugly,” cried Toopka. “He looks like a cold lump of porridge.”
Ardeo stretched, yawning until his little mouth spread wide enough to cover the end of Kale’s thumb. His eyes blinked open, and he gazed around at his audience. He stood and stretched again, arching his back. Spreading his wings, he rocked back and forth on the palm of Kale’s hand.
Metta began to sing. Dibl did an uphill roll from Kale’s elbow to her neck, then hopped, flipped, and skipped on her head and shoulders. Gymn sprang into the air to dance above their heads.
Ardeo trilled and flew from Kale’s hand to her knee and back again. He then pounced onto Toopka, then Bardon, and darted back to Kale.
“He’s healthy enough,” said Bardon as Toopka clapped with glee. He turned to Kale. “Why were you worried?”
Last night he was beautiful. He looked like a dragon formed out of moonbeams.
“Well, he’s a little worse than plain in the sunlight. What does your book say about this grayish dragon?”
I haven’t looked it up yet.
Kale moved back from the circle of activity and reached into the hollow of her cape. The first book she pulled out was Training for Performance: An Overall Guide to Dragonkeeping. She laid it aside and searched again. This time she brought out The Care and Feeding of Minor Dragons. Resting the book on her crossed legs, she thumbed through the pages, looking for the list of colors.
“Here it is, Bardon.” She pointed to a paragraph near the end of the first chapter.
Bardon moved to sit beside her. He sat on a higher trunk and looked over her shoulder. Dibl landed on Bardon’s head. Kale read aloud.
“The dappled white is very rare. An unattractive color in strong light, the minor dragon produces radiance in shadows and darkness. Plainly, its talent is to light the way.”
Bardon chortled. “Obviously.”
Kale looked at the twinkle in Bardon’s blue eyes. “Obviously,” she repeated and laughed.
“Is anything about dragons obvious?”
Oh yes. I think most of what they do is logical.
“Only to a Dragon Keeper.”