fragrance of swamp flowers. Night birds hailed one another as the moon rose over The Bogs. Kale relished the peace.
Truthfully, I’m siding with Librettowit. I don’t want to explore the caves of Creemoor. For one thing, I don’t feel strong enough. Gymn’s healing has always been quicker than this.
She rubbed her hand. The skin itched.
I wonder if something is wrong this time. It’s been hours now since I awoke, and I still feel like I fell out of a treetop. My arm’s weak, and it aches.
Librettowit cleared his throat and wagged a finger at the wizard. “Mind you, Fenworth, I am
not
tagging along to be your portable encyclopedia. I’ll give you facts, maps, and the probabilities, but I am
not
going with you. I’m a librarian, after all, not a knight or a wizard or an adventurer.”
Toopka leaned forward and almost fell out of the hammock. She swung precariously for a moment before her bed settled into a steady rhythm and she could ask her question.
“Who will tell us stories if you don’t come along?”
The tumanhofer offered her a fierce growl, but the child just giggled. He drew his brows together more fiercely. “You’re not going either, so it’s a moot point.”
“Who will sing?” she persisted. “You sing all the old,
old
folk songs. Metta only knows them if she gets them from you. It will be boring without you and Metta singing after supper.”
Regidor got up from the sofa. His bulky tail knocked over an end table piled with books. While everyone in the room held their breaths, he sat down beside Librettowit without toppling anything else.
Fenworth harrumphed. Opening one eye, the wizard glared at the mishap. The table righted itself. The spilled books leapt back into neat stacks.
With none of his usual buoyant attitude showing on his face, Regidor studied his folded hands. His shoulders slouched as he sighed heavily.
Librettowit ignored Fenworth and placed a hand over Regidor’s. “Don’t worry about him. Truth be spoken, you’ve done the old man a world of good.”
Fenworth grumbled something about “old man” and pointedly stuck his nose into the small volume of woodland lore he held.
Librettowit chuckled. “A month ago it would have taken Fenworth fifteen minutes of concentrated effort to recall the backup spell. Now he does it without thinking. All because of you, Regidor.” He patted the dragon’s hand once more. “You’re good for him. Keeping his mind sharp.”
“Harrumph!” Fenworth put his mug down and turned a page.
“Am I to be left at home?” asked Regidor. “Do I have to stay with Toopka?”
“You
get
to stay with me, my boy,” said Librettowit. “We’ll study geography. Maybe do some traveling through the gateways. Learn a bit about our country. Go to a festival or two. Autumn is a good time for traveling—weather’s not too bad and lots of harvest galas happening all over the place.”
Regidor pouted. “I want to go on the quest.”
“Me too!” Toopka rocked her hammock wildly.
Metta and Gymn sat up abruptly and let out a trill. Kale forced herself to concentrate. The dragons’ thoughts pushed into her weary mind.
“Celisse?” Kale straightened. The little dragons leapt into the air and flew out the open window into the night.
“Celisse and Merlander!” Kale exclaimed and struggled to her feet. A smile spread across her face as she went to the window and peered out. The limbs of Fenworth’s castle obscured some of the sky, but she could see twinkling stars and the moon’s soft glow on the towering bog trees.
Kale crowed. “And Dar! Dar’s coming too!”
Toopka twisted over the edge of her hammock, dropped to the floor, and trotted across to the window.
“Where? Where is he?” She pulled on Kale’s sleeve. “Lift me up. I want to see.”
Bending to pick up the child with her stronger arm, Kale shook her head. “You can’t see him. He’s far away, riding on Merlander. They have to land outside The Bogs, and Dar will walk