Free DragonLight by Donita K. Paul

camouflage and nestled against Kale’s chin.
    “Bardon, Tieto says that Namee’s aura is off, pushed to one side as if something was trying to get in from the outside.”
    “Odd.” He watched the man as he moved away.
    Namee now spoke to a gentleman urohm, and although the large man spoke with a booming voice, they could only make out a whisper of sound from the conversation.
    Kale leaned against Bardon’s side. “He doesn’t look a bit different to me. Yet Tieto insists something is amiss.”
    Bardon placed his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t detect anything in his manner that is untoward.” He shook his head. “Now
I’m
wishing Regidor were here.”
    Filia returned with Gymn, who wrapped himself around Kale’s neck. The little healing dragon was unconcerned that someone might comment on the Dragon Keeper bringing her entourage to the banquet. Truthfully, dragons didn’t like to mix with the high races in their festivities. They thought the activities always overdone.
    Kale’s stomach settled immediately, but she still ate sparingly, giving more bites to the three dragons than to herself.
    The musicians ended a song, packed up their instruments, and left the raised platform at one end of the room.
    Moments later a chorus of trumpets heralded the beginning of the ball. The guests filed out through several sets of open doors and entered a dazzling white hall where shining alabaster walls glistened with pale yellow lightrocks. Pillars supported a towering ceiling too far above their heads to discern the structural design. Magnolias, gardenias, lilies, and sprays of snowdrops twined around each column. Minuscule, but brilliant, pastel lightrocks nestled in the green vines.
    Wizard Namee led his lady to the center of the dance floor and bowed to the orchestra to begin. Kale was not educated in music other than tavern songs and ballads that the wandering minstrels sang. Bardon named the tune and the composer for her. The melody enchanted her. Gracefully, Namee and his wife twirled around the room. When they had completed one turn, others began to join them on the polished floor.
    “Kale, would you like to dance?” Bardon bowed to his lady wife.
    “Not yet. May we watch?”
    “Of course.”
    They sat in dainty chairs set against the wall. Rows of seating encircled the dance floor in three tiers, the highest against the wall, the next level just in front of that, and the lowest level on a platform eight inches above the floor. The chairs were grouped in sizes so that kimens and urohms could each find a comfortable place to rest. Outside on the veranda, seats were clustered for socializing between the races.
    After the third dance, the lights dimmed and the orchestra began to play a piece that reminded Kale of music she had heard Sir Dar play on his flute. The partners on the floor stood still. They couldn’t see well enough to proceed. Between the dancers, shimmering lights began to appear.
    “Kimens,” whispered Kale.
    The small creatures danced, twirling between their larger counterparts, circling couples, then spinning away and gliding in and out of the unmoving spectators.
    Kale took Bardon’s hand and stood. “I want to dance with the kimens.”
    They hurried to the floor. Bardon encircled her waist with one arm, held her other hand, and sailed into the midst of the others. Two by two, the couples shook off the awe of the beautiful kimens surrounding them. The colors of the kimens’ lighted garb reflected off the shiny material of the dancers’ clothing. “It’s like being inside a kaleidoscope,” Kale whispered. “The shifting colors could be disconcerting, but you know they’re held together by a pattern even if we can’t see the overall design.”
    “Very philosophical, but that reminds me of a principle.” Bardon pulled her closer, laid his chin against her hair, and murmured in her ear. “Don’t go analyzing it, Light Wizard Kale. Some things are meant just for us to