Two Renegade Realms (Realm Walkers Book 2) (30 page)

Bixby stopped and stared at him. Her tiara helped her define his general character — basically a moral man with a high level of frustration. She discerned intelligence stifled by something she could not identify.

And she didn’t have the time to explore his temperament!

“You’re going to tag along behind me, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He couldn’t attack her in the crowded faire. And her friends would defend her if he got unruly. She didn’t really need his help, but he was big, and it never hurt to have help.

She sighed. “Sit on that barrel, and I’ll fix your leg. Be quick. I have to tell someone something.”

Tegan sat. Bixby knelt beside him and pulled out her hamper for illness and injury.

As she cut away the material around his wound, she noticed he hadn’t given the hamper a second glance. A flat bag containing bulky objects sometimes disturbed people. Obviously, he’d seen hampers before. That would mean association with more than cows and chickens.

She put aside her assumption that he was a farmer.

The knife had sliced along his lower thigh and had not plunged into the flesh. Stitches would make the scar less noticeable but weren’t absolutely necessary. She wiped the blood away, applied a cleanser, then smoothed a creamy ointment over the long cut.

Bixby tidied away the things she had used so far and extracted a roll of linen from her hamper. Again, she wondered at his lack of curiosity. Surely he didn’t know many people who carried a hamper specifically for ministering to
medical needs. But Tegan showed no interest. Not one word of inquiry. Actually, he didn’t speak at all.

She cut a length of the linen and folded it to make a pad to absorb the oozing blood.

Taking his hand, she put it over the bandage. “Hold that wadding against the wound.”

He did as he was told.

She wrapped the cloth strip around his thigh, tightly enough to keep pressure on the wound, then tied it off. She stood, looking at the top of his head as he examined her work.

“I really have to go.” She rammed the last of the scattered supplies into the hamper and turned to sprint away.

She intended to leave him behind, but Tegan kept pace with her. Bixby stopped at the perimeter barrier. Tegan plopped down on the wooden rail and leaned forward, panting. Bixby surveyed the immediate area, then shut her eyes to reach out to her friends.

“What is it?”
asked Cantor, dropping some of his barriers.

“Errd Tos is here, and he’s ordered your capture.”

“Are you coming to join us?”

“Yes, we’ll be right there.”

She felt Cantor’s confusion.
“We?”

As Bixby moved into the faire, her companion pushed away from the rail and caught up with her.

She gave a resigned shrug
. “Tegan is with me.”

“Tegan?”

“He wants to marry me.”

She giggled at the strength of Cantor’s bewilderment.

“Don’t worry, Cantor. I told him I was too busy.”

Bixby let go of her connection with Cantor so she could concentrate on moving through the crowd, keeping her eye
out for brutes working for Errd Tos. Far more weary, lonely, hopeless people roamed through the faire than those who were looking for trouble.

Normally, so many people in despair would have captured Bixby’s attention. She would have spent some time studying this crowd to determine what common element in their lives caused their distress. She steeled herself not to allow her curiosity to upset her agenda. Top priorities were finding Cantor and Bridger, rescuing Totobee-Rodolow, and persuading more mor dragons to join them in the battle against invaders. Then off to save the world.

First, the pastry booth.

She and Tegan found the food court, and then the stall selling cakes, cookies, meat pies, and sausages wrapped in dough and baked until nicely browned.

A small version of Bridger stood beside Cantor. The dragon’s belly protruded as if he hid a large game ball inside.

“You’re going to be sick,” she scolded.

Bridger licked his claw tips and smacked his lips. “Never sick.”

“You just had a beastly cold. You do get sick.”

He shook his head. “I never get sick to my stomach.”

“I have something to tell you that might make you queasy.”

Cantor elbowed in between Bixby and the dragon. He pointed over Bixby’s shoulder. “Who’s this?”

Bixby barely gave the man a glance. “Tegan.”

“What is he doing here?”

“Following me.”

“Why?”

Bixby beetled her brow. “I don’t know why.” She faced Tegan. “Why are you following me?”

Tegan looked confused, an expression that often came to his face. He frowned as if in deep thought and finally answered. “I forgot.”

He wandered off and sat at one of the tables provided for those who had bought a meal.

Bixby gave him a last puzzled look, then dismissed him from her thoughts and returned to the important matters. She switched to mindspeak so only the two could hear her.
“Errd Tos is here.”

Moving closer to the dragon, she put her hands on his arm.
“Totobee-Rodolow is captured.”

Bridger grunted.
“Seems to me my sister was kidnapped the last time we had a mission together. Maybe we shouldn’t take her along.”

Bixby had no experience with brothers, but she had heard that they could be quite callous toward their sisters. Bridger had just confirmed that. She took away her hand and glared at him.

“We’ve got to free her, even if she isn’t to come along.”

Cantor broke in aloud. “What’s he doing?”

Bixby followed his gaze to Tegan. “He’s reading a book of some kind. Looks like a journal.”

“I’m not comfortable with his going with us. There’s something odd about him.”

Bixby screwed up her face and studied her attacker-turned-suitor. “That’s what he said about himself. I don’t see it.” She jerked on Cantor’s sleeve, and spoke to his mind.
“Totobee-Rodolow! We’ve got to rescue her.”

“Do you know where she is?”
asked Cantor, his eyes still on Tegan.

“No.”
Bixby turned to Bridger.
“Do you have any idea where these villains would be able to keep her?”

“Juicy kumquats! I’ve been gone three years. How would I know?”

“Well, we’ve got to find out.” Bixby used a reasonable voice, not at all the one that hovered in her throat.
“Whom can we go talk to who might have information? Any of your relatives? Your friends?”

“There’s a hot spring where my kin often visit. It’s a nice place to relax and catch up on things happening around the realm.”

“Let’s go there.”

“Wait.”
Cantor put his hand on Bixby’s arm.
“Maybe there are mor dragons here. We should find them and talk to them first.”

“What about Errd Tos? His men are looking for you.”

“We’re probably safe in the middle of the faire. When we go to leave, we’ll be in danger.”

Bixby nodded and pulled out her crown hamper. “We’ll try to connect with one.” She pulled out a fancier crown with a high rim, with no jewels but plenty of twists and elaborate sculpted metal. It wasn’t her best crown for locating the mor dragons, but the other was way too conspicuous. She placed the two she had been wearing in the hamper.

Bridger and Cantor already had the faraway look of someone reaching with his mind to find someone. Bixby closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and allowed her consciousness to escape the boundaries of her brain.

Her search came up with nothing. In a moment, she opened her eyes. “That’s strange, isn’t it?” She looked at her two friends.

Cantor quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t find one mor dragon, but Bridger should have had better luck.”

The dragon shook his head and looked at Bixby.

“I didn’t find one either. Do you think they’ve isolated all the mor dragons?”

Cantor looked skeptical. “Takes a big jump to get to that conclusion.”

“What do you think?” asked Bixby.

“I haven’t decided. Let’s go check out the springs Bridger mentioned.”

Leaving the crowded market, they headed back to the field they’d landed in. Just before they turned a corner, Bixby looked back. Tegan followed them but read as he walked, absorbed in his book. She wondered why Primen had caused their paths to cross. Curiosity niggled at her brain. Why did he think he was odd? What kind of odd? She doubted he would disappear and never enter their lives again. That just didn’t seem to be the way Primen worked.

She had just a twinge of anxiety. Nothing in their future looked safe. A small conundrum like the interesting Tegan would be an easier problem to solve. A lighter burden. More fun, at least.

But she wasn’t making the choices for this journey. And to tell the truth, considering what was at stake, she would gladly leave the whole thing in Primen’s hands. His problem. His responsibility. She would be the minion.

FINDING HELP

N
othing in the Tinendoor valley was far away.

A dragon could fly end to end in the morning and side to side in the afternoon. The poisonous Sea of Joden accounted for most of the distance in the middle. Bridger glided south along the mountain range and soon came to their destination.

A rise in the foothills pushed upward, then dipped before the mountains, creating a bowl-shaped valley. In the center of this geological formation, a myriad of stone columns shot upright. Obviously made by some force of nature, the grouping looked like people gathered for a celebration of some kind.

“It’s called the Family,” said Bridger over his shoulder.

At the feet of statues carved by the environment, green and blue water bubbled out of the earth. One side spouted green foam, and down the other side trickled miniature blue falls.

“Very pretty,” said Bixby. She held Jesha and stroked the kitty’s back.

“But no dragons.” With alert eyes, Cantor did another sweep of the area. “Any other ideas?”

Bixby pointed to a ramshackle building about a mile along the hills. “Let’s ask at that inn if they’ve had any dragon custom lately.”

Bridger banked and began a descent.

Close at hand, the hostel looked better than it had from the sky. Small repairs, fresh paint, and seedlings planted in a long border of the property showed someone had recently invested some time in the old place.

Two children ran out the front door and dashed across the lawn to greet them. They came to a skidding stop just yards away.

The elder, a girl with rosy cheeks, pale blue eyes, and neat brown braids, curtseyed. “Welcome to Halfway There Inn.”

Cantor laughed. “Where are we halfway to?”

The boy, grubbier than his big sister but just as polite, pointed in one direction. “If you’re going south, sir, you’re halfway to Tidoor.” He switched arms to point in the opposite direction. “If you’re going north, you’re halfway to Blendit.”

The girl curtseyed again. “Won’t you come in and have tea? My mum makes the best cakes and pastries in Tinendoor.”

Not to be outdone, the boy bowed. “My pader makes his own brew. It’s tasty.”

The girl turned disbelieving eyes on her little brother.

He looked down and scuffed his shoe against long, healthy blades of grass. “Or so I’ve been told.” He peeked up at Cantor and winked. “Mum also makes sandwiches and soups and things.”

Bixby turned a laugh into a cough, not wanting to belittle the delightful boy.

A voice called, “Jory, Mack, bring our guests inside.”

In a window with billowing white curtains, a young woman waved. Bixby waved back.

“We have a cat. May we bring her in?”

She had addressed the woman but the children chorused, “Yes!” At the woman’s nod, Bixby started to the door with Jesha in her arms.

Bridger smacked his lips as they followed the children toward the inn. “Tea and trimmings.” In the fastest change Bixby had seen so far, the dragon became a smaller version of himself. He didn’t bother to secure his tail.

Bixby decided to wait until they saw the inside before deciding whether the tail would be a menace.

The inside of the building enveloped them in cool, dark simplicity, brightened only by natural light from the windows. Wooden chairs clustered around several tables. A singing bird hung in a pretty cage. It ceased its delightful warble and cocked an eye at them. Cantor pursed his lips and whistled the same pattern as the bird’s song.

Sister and brother stopped as they wove through the furniture and turned surprised faces to Cantor. The realm walker stopped his tune, and the bird took it up. As soon as it stopped, Cantor had a turn. Jesha ignored the bird and claimed a space on the hearth.

The children laughed, bounced on their toes, and clapped their hands.

Their mother came out of a back room, carrying a tray with mugs and a big teapot, creamer, and sugar bowl. She set her heavy load on the nearest table. Bixby went to help her.

“I’ll be back in two ticks.” The woman headed toward the
curtain-covered door again. “Just need to get the pastries and some spoons.”

Bixby poured the tea, sweetened the dark brew with lumps of brown sugar, and lightened it with the cream. Bridger came at once to sit at the table, and Cantor joined them when the innkeeper brought two plates of sweet breads.