Free DragonFire by Donita K. Paul Page A

that must have been the cross-supports of the kite moments before. The colorful cloth, now a tent, sheltered her from the storm.
    The sound of a raging river reached her ears. She crawled to the opening of her tent and peeked out a flap. A torrent of water roared down the gully she had intended to use as a safe haven. Debris tumbled past and disappeared.
    She caught her breath and whispered, “Thank you, Wulder.”
    Her ears popped as the scene around her flashed into oblivion, and she refocused on another field. This time she saw Paladin walking hand in hand with a young boy. Slowly, Paladin’s form changed into a diamond shape, his arm stretched and narrowed until it appeared as a string. Paladin became a kite flown by a small child.
    The boy ran and laughed, tugging on the kite, watching the looping antics in the air and enjoying his day in the sun. But a rabbit hopped by, and the boy turned his attention to the small, furry creature. He chased his prey, still pulling the kite along. Keeping hold of the string encumbered his pursuit of the rabbit. After he had missed catching the small animal a couple of times, the boy let the kite go. Into the heights of the heavens, the graceful bit of paper soared away, unnoticed by the rabbit chaser.
    Paladin’s rasping voice brought Kale back to the bedchamber. “You see, my dear Dragon Keeper, Amara has let go of the string.”

          10          
    A N E VENING D IVERSION
    Kale left Paladin’s quarters as the sun dipped behind the nearby hills. A maid escorted her to chambers where Bardon sat reading a book. He jumped to his feet as soon as the door opened, and she was in his arms before it closed again.
    “Was he able to speak to you?”
    She nodded against his chest.
    Bardon hugged her, and all the impressions of the meeting flowed from her mind to his. When her thoughts slowed and trailed off, he kissed her forehead.
    “Wulder,” he whispered against her skin. “Kale, you must latch on to Wulder, not Paladin. We must see past our dependence on Paladin for leadership to Wulder, who provides wisdom to us all.”
    Kale pushed him away. “You sound like you don’t care if Paladin dies.”
    “That’s not it at all, and you know it.” He walked over to the window and stood with his hands on his hips, looking out at the crimson sunset. “Your mother and father are here.”
    Kale’s countenance brightened. “Did you see them? Did you speak to them?”
    “Your father.” Bardon gave a perfunctory nod. “I spoke to your father. We will sit with them at dinner tonight.”
    “Oh good. I haven’t had a nice talk with Mother since they visited last spring. I wonder what they’ve been doing all summer.”
    Bardon shrugged and turned to face her. His eyelids drooped as if he were too weary to look wide-eyed upon the world around him. “My father is here as well.”
    “Oh, Bardon.” She wondered what she could say. What question was appropriate under the circumstances? But he answered one that hadn’t come to her mind.
    “No, I didn’t have a chance to talk with him. He was occupied, comparing notes with other knights. Amara is in a perilous state. The cry of the people has changed from ‘Don’t do anything to call attention to us’ to ‘Why haven’t you done something to prevent this calamity?’”
    “And your father?”
    “Is angry. What else? The conclave tomorrow night is to involve only the wizards, and you know how he feels about wizards.”
    Her shoulders drooped in spite of her determination to be encouraging to her husband. “Oh yes. I know how he feels about wizards and dragons and magic.”
    “I’m sorry, Kale.” He came back to embrace her.
    She leaned against him. “I’m sorry, too. I know you care whether Paladin recovers or not. I also know you always look at a bigger picture than I do.”
    She felt him nod as his chin touched the top of her head. His deep voice rumbled under her ear.
    “It would be hard without