One Realm Beyond (41 page)

Cantor didn’t answer. They both knew the three had made a poor choice.

“As we flew back, Bridger noticed a farmhouse with carriages gathered around it. Some sort of meeting was going on, and we decided to investigate. Bridger and Jesha went inside as cats. I hung around the grooms and drivers. Bixby used her crowns to find out who was in the building.”

Dukmee quickened his step. “She strained her mind by using her skill at too great an intensity and for too long.”

“She mumbled about a man attacking her, trying to get into her mind, find her identity. At least, that’s what we think. She hasn’t been very coherent, but it’s obvious her head hurts.”

Moments later, Dukmee walked into the library with Cantor directly behind him. “Help me find the hamper that holds her crowns.”

Cantor knew where it would be. He remembered from the many times he’d seen her pull it from between folds of her skirts. Gently shifting her position on the couch, he drew out
the hamper. Dukmee took it from him, sat on a chair, and rummaged through the bag. “Two are missing.”

“She didn’t have them on when we found her.”

Dukmee chose a thin circlet with a few diamonds attached at even intervals around the rim. He placed it on her head.

“That will help, but we need to retrieve the other crowns.”

Bridger had put himself out of the way. At the edge of the room, next to a wall filled with portraits, he came to attention. “We’ll go.”

Cantor started for the double glass doors that led to the veranda.

“Wait. First tell me what you learned at this meeting.”

Cantor sighed. He wanted to go
do
something, not stand around and talk. “I learned there’s an entrance to the dungeons near the kitchen storage room.” He looked at Bridger. “Totobee-Rodolow’s been taken there.”

Bridger caught his breath. He sagged against the wall, knocking two portraits of distinguished realm walkers askew. Jesha leapt from her position on Bixby and darted to sit on the dragon’s shoulder. She leaned against his neck.

Dukmee sighed and turned to Bridger. “The best way to help your sister is by . . .” He paused. “Bridger, tell me what you learned. When we have facts, we can act.”

Bridger shuddered, then took a deep breath and drew himself erect. Stroking Jesha, he carried the cat over and replaced her next to Bixby.

“A group of councilmen plot to kill the others. They can gain more control when they divide the power among thirty-six instead of ninety-nine.”

Dukmee nodded and turned to scrutinize Bixby. “And do you know what Bixby learned?”

“No.” Cantor looked at his dragon friend. “Didn’t she have a notebook?”

“Yes. But I didn’t see it anywhere around her.”

“She’d rolled down the hill.”

Dukmee went to a cabinet and opened the doors. “I’m going to give her an elixir. Hopefully, she’ll be able to answer questions by the time you get back. Find those crowns and her notes. We don’t want those men to know we were the ones spying.”

He glanced toward the glass doors. “It’s almost dawn. I suggest you hurry.”

GATHERING FORCES

B
ixby sat up. Jesha stretched beside her. The room was cool and dark with the drapes pulled over the many long windows and glass doors — Dukmee’s library. Where were Cantor and Bridger?

She tried to stand, lost her balance, and sat down hard on the couch. The jolt rattled her brain, and she remembered how very sick she’d been. She lifted her hand to her head and found a healing circle tangled into her hair. She must have tossed a lot while she was unconscious.

She remembered Errd Tos. Her arms folded across her midriff. It was her mind, not her stomach, she should be protecting. Strings of pain and terror still threaded through her thoughts. She collapsed back onto pillows and blankets.

Jesha leapt aside as Bixby thumped down almost on top of her. The cat stared at the girl reproachfully. With a haughty
turn of her head, she licked a front paw and began her morning ritual of putting herself in order.

Bixby stroked the cat’s head between her ears. “I need to do some grooming as well.”

A glass and pitcher sat on an end table. She scooted along the cushions until she could reach them, drank the full glass of clear liquid, then refilled it from the pitcher. An elixir. She remembered Dukmee holding her in a sitting position so she could sip the tart fluid.

Where was he now? Something niggled at her brain. Something about Dukmee and those horrid men.

The doorknob rattled, then the door opened. Dukmee entered, followed by a servant with a tray.

The servants were spies. She remembered a statement made by Errd Tos that confirmed their suspicions. He had said something else, but the memory shivered and hid from being ferreted out.

“You’re awake. Good. Head any better?” Dukmee gave her a searching look, and she was sure he’d analyzed her state of health.

He gestured for the man to place the tray on a small round table near the windows. Then he came to her side and took her wrist, resting his fingers on her pulse. After a moment, he gave a nod of approval. “Good, good. Can you sit at the table?”

He helped her stand and supported her to where the servant held out a chair. “Thank you, Seymour. That will be all.”

Before he left, the servant put a dish of milk on the floor. Jesha sauntered over and sniffed his offering. She waited until the door closed behind him to lap the milk.

Bixby sat and placed her hands in her lap.

Dukmee folded his long frame into the other chair. “You haven’t said a word.”

The memory twitched. Bixby snatched it then tossed it away. Too late. She knew what she had learned at the farmhouse. A storm brewed in her chest as Bixby focused on the one horrid bit of knowledge. “You work for them.”

“Them?”

“Those wicked councilmen.”

He frowned, picked up her toast, and spread bright red jam across the golden top. “Bixby, you’ve always known I was in the employ of the guild.”

“The servants spy on us, and you make sure we aren’t equipped properly for the job.”

He put the toast back on her plate, but continued to hold the knife as he gazed at the door to the hall. “Of course the servants spy on us.” He paused, then set the knife on the tray. He scooped sugar into her tea. “Do you want cream as well?”

“Yes.”

He poured the cream from a small china jug, then stirred the brew. “Ah, that smells like a flower garden.”

She picked up the delicate cup and sipped the warm tea. The flavorful taste pleased her, and the warmth soothed her raw throat. She realized the outside muscles of her neck were tight and sore. But her head hurt only if she moved quickly, and the nausea had disappeared. She was better, and her regained health was probably due to Dukmee’s healing gifts.

She dipped her spoon in the bowl of porridge. Dried fruit and crumbled nuts floated on the top of the thick, creamy crushed grain and oatmeal mixture.

Dukmee watched her. “You don’t think I’m doing an adequate job as your mentor?”

“They
are counting on you to
not
do your job.”

“I see.” He tapped a finger on the table, then abruptly stopped. “The servants spy. The spies report to the councilmen that I am not preparing you properly. The corrupt Guildsmen are pleased, and you are not.”

She nodded and ate more of the porridge.

“Number one. You are wondering if I am fulfilling my obligation to get you ready for the arduous tasks of being a realm walker.

“Number two. You’ve heard I’m doing a poor job. If so, you’re wondering if it’s deliberate negligence on my part, because I desire to please the corrupt guild. Or, if I am doing a poor job without malice, is it because I am inadequate to train you and your cohorts?”

Bixby fixed her eyes on her teacup, and she swallowed a large amount. She put the cup down but avoided Dukmee’s eyes. Picking up the jam-covered toast, she nibbled with deliberate concentration.

Dukmee poured himself tea and spent some time preparing it to his liking.

He stirred well past the time the tea was blended with the sugar and cream. “We can’t answer number one until we’ve answered number two. I have three statements that can put your mind at ease,
if
you believe them to be true.”

She looked up, wanting to read honesty in his eyes.

He smiled. “I’m not interested in pleasing the guild members. To my own pleasure, I’ve enjoyed feeding them false information through their spies. I’m perfectly capable of training you and the others in the ways of a realm walker. I’m convinced that your training will equip you to either handle a
situation with expediency, or to evaluate a problem and determine an adequate response.”

Bixby tried to keep her expression neutral, but it was no use. She frowned as she contemplated their time at the vilta. She’d witnessed Dukmee allowing the servants to overhear half-truths, not lies, but misleading statements. That much would be true. And as for his allowing them to be slack in their training, weariness, sore muscles, and hours of study proved that accusation wrong.

Unprepared? She knew cocky Cantor thought he was more than able to level forests and build cities. Any more certain of his ability to do the things he’d trained for would cause problems. They’d have to widen doors to get his head through.

She’d been confident when she started the training. If she’d been prepared then, now she should be able to knock down mountains.

In her hamper, Bixby had a crown that enabled her to discern whether or not a person told the truth. She smiled at Dukmee. She didn’t need the crown.

Light burst into the room as the doors to the outside swung open, and Bridger and Cantor stepped in. Cantor stopped and held the door as he watched out across the veranda. Jesha darted out.

Bridger came to Bixby’s side. He took her hand. “Are you all right? You look a lot better. You looked bad before. Not bad as in ugly, but bad as in sick. Well, looking sick did look ugly, but you’re all right now. Right?”

She smiled. “I am much better. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but it wasn’t just me. Cantor helped, and of course, Dukmee took care of you once we had you here.”

He turned his head as if listening to a noise from outside.

“What is it?” asked Bixby.

“We have a visitor.” He smiled, flashing rows of pointy teeth.

Could it be Totobee-Rodolow? Bixby held her breath.

Cantor stepped back and Feymare entered with Jesha in his arms. Of course, it wasn’t Totobee-Rodolow, but Feymare could help find her, couldn’t he?

He greeted Cantor, Bridger, and Dukmee, then came to sit with Bixby.

“Have you had breakfast?” asked Dukmee.

“No.” He placed a hand on the side of Bixby’s face, cupping her chin. “You’re doing well. I was alarmed to hear of your experience.”

“I forgot to be cautious.”

“That’s true, but the endeavor was exacerbated by the content of the minds you probed. They are truly depraved men, and their evil is a malady of hedonistic hearts.”

“I’m hungry,” said Bridger. “I’ll go to the kitchen and have breakfast brought to the library.”

Bixby wondered how the Primen warrior would take this mundane statement. After the delivery of his explanation of her severe reaction and the thorough corruption of these men, surely a comment about food was out of place.

She needn’t have worried. Feymare bestowed a glowing smile on the dragon. “Thank you, friend. I’m hungry too. Food sounds utterly practical. And then we must talk.”

While they waited for Bridger to return, Cantor sat across from the Primen warrior, determined to find out about Ahma
and Odem. They all sat at the small round table. Dukmee had moved Bixby’s tray out of the way.

Feymare answered Cantor’s question even before he could ask it. “I’m sorry, Cantor. I’ve heard nothing. But the fact that we haven’t had news is actually news in itself.”

Cantor tried to form an optimistic expression but knew he was scowling. “How so?”

“There are only a few places they could be hidden from my ability to locate them.”

The scowl slipped. “So you can guide us to these places, and perhaps we’ll find them.”

“The first one is right here in Gilead.”