Free Dragons of the Watch by Donita K. Paul

of life and the injustice of time
.
    Imanderron
turned out to be one of the books by the chair and clued them in to Old One’s habit of sometimes referring to favorite volumes as friends.
    Ellie and Bealomondore each took a journal to peruse, hoping to cover more territory and find something that would help. Occasionally one would call to the other to share an interesting entry, but most of Old One’s accounts detailed tedious days with nothing relevant to their predicament. They discovered that the older journals had much more lively reports.
    “He probably hadn’t yet succumbed to the melancholy of being alone,” said Ellie.
    Bealomondore stood and stretched. “It’s time to collect our dinner.”
    Ellie looked up to the domed skylight. “Oh my! It’s gotten dark.” She frowned and looked around. “Where is our light coming from?” The tops of the pillars glowed.
    “Lightrocks. The library is almost too well lit at night. I have to find a dark corner to sleep in.”
    “You sleep here?”
    “Yes, it is the only place I know the grimy masses will not invade. If I oversleep in the morning, I won’t be awakened by grubby paws mauling my person.”
    She looked again at the dark sky. “But we have to go out to fetch our meal?”
    “Not to worry,” said Bealomondore in good humor. “The brats must be afraid of the dark. I’ve never seen one after the sun goes down.”
    He came and offered her his arm. “Would you care to go for a stroll, Miss Ellicinderpart Clarenbessipawl?”
    She smiled and nodded as she took his arm. She was hungry, and the prospect of dinner with Bealomondore delighted her. Bealomondore would also protect her from naughty children should this be the one time they ignored curfew. Tonight she could relax and enjoy the moment. Tomorrow she would put more thought into how to escape.

When they left the library, they found the pavement wet and raindrops clinging to leaves and flowers.
    “The evening shower,” said Bealomondore. “Most nights—not all—a gentle rain washes the dust from the air and waters the plants.”
    Tak attacked a bush, munching the vegetation, clean and sparkling with raindrops. Ellie looked up, watching wisps of clouds trail across the sky. The moon backlit the ethereal tresses, causing them to glow. She tilted her head and studied the moon.
    “It’s bent,” she said.
    Bealomondore stood beside her and followed her gaze.
    “Yes, I’ve noticed that from time to time. As the evening progresses and the moon’s position changes, it will lose that odd shape.”
    “What causes it?”
    “The bottle effect.”
    Ellie shifted her eyes to examine the tumanhofer’s face.
    “I found it in a book in the library beside Old One’s chair. I think he has researched the phenomenon, and it is fortunate for me that he left the books out. Can you imagine climbing the bookshelves, locating a book, then trying to get it down?”
    “The bottle effect?”
    “Remember I said that Rumbard City is under some kind of wizardry?”
    “Yes.”
    “It would seem that whoever cast the spell put the city in a bottle. We’re looking at the moon through the glass, and when the moon is positioned so that it is beyond a corner, it looks bent.”
    Ellie admitted to herself that at one time she had thought the glinting object she’d seen in the distance looked like a bottle, but the whole thing in reality was absurd.
    She didn’t try to keep the sarcasm from her voice. “The rain comes through the neck of the bottle and spreads out to make a shower?” She arched her eyebrows. “Are the clouds inside or outside the bottle?”
    He chose to answer her question without rancor. “The climate within the bottle is delivered in the same manner as the food—the right kind, in the right amount, at the right time.”
    “But we don’t know who delivers the food and weather?”
    He shook his head slowly. “No, we don’t. But we shall continue to explore the possibilities.”
    The two