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HOMECOMING

Kale stepped out from under the shelter of the bentleaf tree and breathed the crisp, clear air. Stars pricked the velvet sky with brilliant pinpoints. The minor dragons danced in the air, displaying their joyful mood.

She sensed Bardon nearby and searched for him. He stepped from behind another bentleaf tree. Armed with his sword and a bow, he looked ready to defend the camp.

“Are you on guard, Bardon?”

“It’s always good to be prepared.”

“You were watching out for me.”

He nodded.

“Did you see her?”

“I got a glimpse.” He hesitated. “She certainly dresses well.”

Kale laughed.

Bardon watched the dragons’ aerial ballet. “The dragons are happy. Does that mean you are as well?”

“I am. Isn’t that odd?”

“Because your mother was here, and she is a…disturbing person?”

“Yes.” Kale surveyed the countryside. The devastated field didn’t look so harsh in the mellow light of the moon. She sighed at the beauty still visible in the roll of the gentle hills. “I was contemplating how superior I would feel when I see the people I used to serve. Then my mother showed up, and she really is important. And I don’t like her.”

Dibl landed on Bardon’s shoulder, then flew off again. Metta’s voice broke into a song of contentment.

Bardon put a hand on Kale’s shoulder and guided her to sit on a boulder. He crouched beside her. “So why do you feel so at ease?” he asked.

“Because I didn’t go with her. I knew I didn’t have to. And tomorrow I’m going to like seeing Mistress Meiger. I’ll be seeing friends, not masters.”

She gasped as a light appeared out of one of the bentleaf trees. “Kimens,” she whispered.

Bardon sat on the grass and leaned against the boulder. They watched as more of the tiny creatures slipped out into the open. They danced beneath the minor dragons and sang with Metta. Their clothing glowed in shades of lavender, yellow, and gold.

Unlike the first time Kale had seen the little people dance, she did not feel compelled to join them. Instead, she basked in the pleasure of their simple song and beautiful dance.

Bardon felt it too. The strong link between them startled Kale out of her reverie. From her perch on the big rock, she looked at Bardon seated on the grass. She expected to see his back or shoulder touching her. But six inches separated him from her knee. Still, a steady vibration emanated from the lehman. The sensation felt like a cat’s purr, and she realized it matched, thrum for thrum, a similar tremor in her being.

Harmonizing notes to Metta’s song recaptured her attention. Across the stubby field, Librettowit, Regidor, and Dar stood with musical instruments. The librarian played an oboe, the meech dragon played a flute, and the doneel drew a bow across the strings of a violin. Toopka skipped into the open area and joined the dancers.

From the center of the field, among the kimen dancers, a radiance grew. Like the colors of a rainbow, a pool of light ebbed and flowed, pulsating with the chords of music. With each pulse, the borders extended out and returned, but the height of the image grew taller and continued to stretch upward. When the melody ended, a rainbow column soared far above their heads. For a moment the lights quivered, and then the image streaked upward, disappearing like a comet into the heavens.

“What was that?” asked Bardon.

“Worship,” Kale answered, her voice still hushed with awe.

Bardon walked with her back to the tents. None of the questers spoke as they went to their beds. The serenity following the musical interlude hovered over them like a peaceful blanket.

Toopka settled on her pallet. But as soon as Kale pulled up her own covers and nestled down to sleep, the little doneel popped out of bed, scooted across the space between them, and slipped under the blanket. Kale cuddled her little friend, and they slumbered peacefully through the night.


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The dawn exposed a glistening frost upon the ground once more. The sun’s rays infused thin banks of clouds with rich coral colors. The wood smoke from Dar’s cooking fire mixed with heavy spices he’d sprinkled in mugs of tea. Toopka hovered close, hoping to be the first to fill her plate with fried mullins.

The dragons tolerated the cold but preferred warmer weather. They stroked the air with their leathery wings to stir their sluggish blood. Anyone who did not know this ritual prepared them for flight might have thought they were doing homage to the rising sun.

After the companions ate breakfast and broke camp, Kale tucked Toopka inside her moonbeam cape for the journey. The other companions dressed warmly in clothing lined with thick, knitted wool. Once they were in flight, the warmth generated by the dragons’ labor seeped through the leather saddles and warmed the passengers.

They soared above the countryside for only an hour before they spotted the Guerson River. The dragons descended, landing in a harvested field to the east of River Away. A farmer and his two sons came out to greet them.

Dar led the others to address the marione men.

“Good day to you,” he began. “We come in the name of Paladin. He has commissioned us to aid you in your difficulties with the dragons. My name is Sir Dar. My companions are a meech, two warriors, a historian, and a child. I would like to speak to your councilmen.”

The farmer looked to his sons for a reaction to this speech. The young men nodded solemnly.

“I’m Farmer Deel. These are my eldest sons, Mack and Weedom. We’ll take you to Master Meiger,” he said. Then he looked at the four dragons standing in his field. “Your dragons?”

“Safe,” Dar assured him. “But if their presence troubles you, they are willing to wait for us elsewhere.”

The farmer nodded. He shifted his feet and glanced again at his sons. “Aye, I have a family to protect. Times aren’t as they once were.”

“This is no problem, Farmer Deel.”

Dar returned to Merlander’s side and spoke to her. Soon the other dragons followed Merlander into the sky and off to the east.

Kale watched them go, knowing they would come quickly if summoned. She approached the marione men. She had worked as a slave in their household many times.

“Good morning, Farmer Deel.”

He examined her face before a light of recognition changed his expression. “Kale?”

She nodded and grinned. Mack stepped forward and pumped her hand in a hearty handshake. Weedom pushed his brother aside and did the same. Neither young man voiced pleasure at seeing her, but her hand felt as if all the bones had been crushed. She massaged her fingers and smiled.

“Enough of this,” said Farmer Deel gruffly. “We’ve business to attend to.” Before he turned to lead the way to the village, he patted Kale’s shoulder. “You be sure to visit my goodwife. She was mighty fond of you, and it would do her heart good.”

Goodwife Deel was fond of me? Kale pictured the farmer’s wife stopping during her chores to pick up a crying child. The brusque manner in which the mother administered a hug and a kiss and a word of consolation demonstrated the fashion of her relationships. Not much tenderness flavored her life.

They strode the two miles into River Away at a quick pace. The first things Kale saw among the familiar cluster of humble buildings were the chickens and glommytucks pecking in the yards and roadways. The unpaved streets saw little more than foot traffic, a few goat-pulled carts and handcarts, and an occasional horse and rider.

On market days, either dust or grumbles hung thick in the air. Traffic kicked up dust after a dry spell. Farmers bogged in a rain-soaked road spit out grumbles.

They rounded a corner to the main street through town where the inn, tavern, and mercantile lined up close together. On the bench in front of the tavern sat an old man talking to a tree, which also sat on the bench.

Toopka gave a whoop and ran ahead, throwing herself into Wizard Cam’s arms. She hugged him and smacked his cheek with a loud kiss, then turned to the tree.

“Wake up, Wizard Fen. We’re here now! Wake up and say hello.”

The tree shuddered. Leaves fell on the ground and covered its exposed roots. A bird peered out of the branches with a disapproving glare at Toopka and flew away.

Toopka scrambled down from Cam’s lap and took hold of one of the branches. She gave it a little tug.

“Come on, Wizard Fen. Don’t you want to see us? Don’t you want to hear about our ’ventures? Regidor can spit fire!”

Cam placed a hand on the little doneel’s shoulder. “It’s getting harder for him, little one. Give him a minute.”

The tree rumbled. “You’re implying I’m getting old. I’ll wrap you in bogweed, Cam, and throw you in a lake! Can’t a man rest after slaying 2,356 Creemoor spiders?”

Fenworth stirred himself again. The woody look about him disappeared except for a few stray leaves in his hair and beard.

Toopka clapped her hands and hopped.

Fenworth glared at her, but she just laughed.

“You, child, are impertinent.”

“Does that mean hungry? Because I’m starved!”

Fenworth ignored her and turned stiffly to see the others approaching. “Good!” he exclaimed. “There are my apprentices. Thought I’d misplaced you. And my librarian! What I wouldn’t give for a tankard of mallow and a good book, a cozy fire and Thorpendipity cawing on and on about Bog news.”

He shook his head. “But you’ve brought that pesky doneel who’s always wanting us to do things.”

He stood and pointed a finger at Dar. “You, stay here.” He pointed the same finger at Kale and crooked it. “You, come with me. Your mother’s been worrying me like a dog with an old bone. Let’s go meet her.”