Dragons of the Watch (24 page)

“Ah,” said the old man with mischief lighting his face. “So your many lovers didn’t object to your cooking. Very wise of them.”

Ellie clasped her hands together and twisted. “I meant that I hadn’t any lovers. Not ones who objected. Not ones who didn’t object. No lovers. My family liked my cooking well enough.”

“Well, quit dawdling,” commanded Old One. “Climb up to your breakfast so we can get on with the day.” Pushing against the chair arms to aid his struggle, he stood. “I’ll just go upstairs and get things ready.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Bealomondore. “Ellie, stay there. I’ll bring things down to you.”

A pot of tea and cups already sat on one of the stacks of thick books. Bealomondore balanced a plate as he descended from the wooden chair.

“Bacon!” Ellie took the plate and sat on a shorter stack of books. “I haven’t had bacon for a long time.”

“The toast and jam is good too.”

She took a bite. “Mmm. Razterberry.”

Bealomondore poured tea and then sat opposite her with the book table between them.

“What did he mean, Bealomondore? About getting things ready?”

“He seems to be in a jolly mood this morning. He plans for you to bake daggarts in his kitchen.”

“I don’t mind baking, but how do we get up there? I’m not eager to climb two flights of stairs.”

“He’s worked it out. There’s a dumbwaiter.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know what a dumbwaiter is.”

“It’s a box that carries things between different floors. In this case, it was meant to carry books. Someone pulls on a rope. There’s a pulley at the top, so it greatly reduces the amount of strength needed to haul something upward or lower it.”

“So Old One is going to do the hauling?”

“He’s very keen on having more daggarts.”

“Do you think he’s strong enough to pull us up to the top floor? He looks weak to me. And he moves even slower than my gramps.”

Bealomondore pondered the danger involved. He certainly couldn’t put Ellie in the dumbwaiter if there was any possibility of it being dropped. “I’ll go up first, and then maybe there would be some way for me to help him if his strength gives out.”

“It would be handy to have one of those wizards you talked about here.”

“Ellie, I believe it is because of some wizard that we are in this predicament. I don’t know what would happen if a different wizard came along and stuck his finger in the pot.”

“Guess you’re right—too many cooks spoil the broth,” she agreed.

They tidied up a bit after they finished breakfast. Then Bealomondore led Ellie to the workroom she’d seen before. In the corner, a box sat in a cubby in the wall.

Bealomondore patted the floor of the enclosure. “This is the car. It’s guided by two rails so it won’t tip during the trip up or down.”

He pushed an empty wooden crate to the cleared space under the
dumbwaiter. After stepping up, he reached for and tugged a rope. A bell clanged from high above them.

“It rings on the third floor,” he explained.

Ellie nodded, but her expression conveyed little confidence that this was a good idea. She surveyed the contraption as if looking for cracked wood or frayed ropes.

“Remember,” said Bealomondore, “Old One said things do not wear out in Rumbard City.”

“I think
he
is wearing out.”

“Point taken.”

Old One’s voice boomed through the shaft. “Are you in there yet?”

Bealomondore hopped into the box. “Ready!” He winked at Ellie. “Your turn next. There’s nothing to it really. Not nearly as daunting as riding on a dragon’s back.”

The dumbwaiter jerked, then started upward. Bealomondore sensed the question in Ellie’s mind.

“Not on the back of a minor dragon. A riding dragon is bigger than a horse.” The dumbwaiter lifted him behind the wall, and he could no longer see her. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

Ellie watched the dumbwaiter slide upward in the shaft. When Bealomondore passed out of view, she saw the two rails that the lift followed and two ropes that moved, one going up and one sliding down. The apparatus whined as if protesting against the weight in the car. Through their bond, she knew that he sat in the car with no qualms. Perhaps his calm demeanor would transfer to her when it was her turn.

She climbed onto the crate and leaned in to see the bottom of the
car rising above her. A screech made her jerk back. It sounded as if the box rubbed against the side of the shaft. In a moment, the grating sound diminished, and she could again hear the constant whine. A loud thud cut off the high-pitched complaint.

She sighed her relief as she realized Bealomondore had climbed out and stood next to the urohm.

The dumbwaiter began its downward journey, groaning and protesting with a much-diminished cry. It thumped against the floor of the shaft when it reached bottom.

Bealomondore’s voice carried down to her. “Climb in, Ellie.”

She hopped aboard and called, “I’m in.”

When an initial shudder signaled that her trip had begun, her muscles tensed as if she were about to fall. But the adventure of doing something entirely new grabbed her, zinging through her body. A happy glow replaced the trepidation from a moment before. The whine reverberated in the car, and she covered her ears. But even that added to the thrill. She wanted to tell Gustus about the dumbwaiter. She knew if he were here, she wouldn’t be able to keep him out of this contraption.

The image of her brother’s ecstatic face sent a wave of homesickness through her, squelching her enthusiasm. She wanted to tell her mother and sisters about Graddapotmorphit Bealomondore. She wasn’t as sure about introducing her suitor to her father. What would Da think of an artist?

She’d best start with Bealomondore’s service in the war. Then approach the subject of his talent. Perhaps the subject of his unusual friends would not come up at all. Her father was not likely to ask, “Has this young man spent any time living with kimens? Does this suitor associate with wizards? Can’t have any odd associates if he wants to court
my daughter.” She sighed. Mother would understand, and so would Aunt Tiffenbeth.

The car continued to move up past the second floor, where the opening revealed a room of bookshelves in orderly rows. The sides of the dumbwaiter scraped against the walls of the shaft. Ellie clenched her teeth against the grinding noise. Once past the tight spot, Ellie noticed the dim light giving way to stronger illumination.

When she saw a square hole in the wall like the one on the first floor, she could almost imagine having returned to the same spot. But Bealomondore and Old One stood in this room. The tumanhofer greeted her with a grin and held her hand as she climbed out.

He gave her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. Ellie’s eyes darted over to Old One, but the urohm concentrated on applying a clamp to the rope, which she assumed would keep the dumbwaiter in place. Orli sat on the back of a sofa. This morning, his mottled white and gray scales looking more like moldy clotted cream than oatmeal.

Old One put a hand to his back. “That wore me out. I’m going to lie down.” He pointed to the opposite side of the room. “Kitchen’s in there.” He limped to another door and entered the room. Orli slipped in just before the urohm closed the door behind him.

As the latched clicked, Bealomondore pulled Ellie into his arms. “Old One is a completely inadequate chaperone.”

Ellie thoroughly enjoyed his kiss. His arms around her made her feel safe.

She could get used to this.

She pulled back. “Did I think that, or did you think that?”

He planted a quick kiss on her forehead and stepped away. “I think
we
thought that.”

Taking her hand, he pulled her toward the kitchen. “Let’s get busy.”

The kitchen surprised Ellie. Smaller furniture made the room seem bigger. Old One had already put ingredients on the one table in the center. He’d stoked the stove and put manageable-sized bowls out for them to use.

Bealomondore walked around the room, reading small pieces of paper scattered on counters, pinned to the walls, and stuck to cabinets.

“What do they say?” she asked.

“Most of them label what is in the cupboards.” He touched one hanging by the doorframe. “This one is interesting.
Two tumanhofers downstairs
.”

“Why would he write that?”

Bealomondore shrugged. He read the next slip.
“Name—Bealomondore.”

Ellie looked at a note next to the window.
“Goat—park—girl.”
She shook her head. “Tak is not a girl.”

“No, but he belongs to a girl.” On a cabinet, he found another cryptic note.
“Daggarts—girl—dumbwaiter.”

Ellie glanced at the many flags of paper around the place. “What do you think all these are for?”

“I think they are reminders. I don’t think he remembers things.”

She looked out the window and saw Tak strolling among a bank of flowers in the library park. “So when he figures something out, he writes it down?”

“And the next day he doesn’t have to figure it out again.”

She took a moment to digest that possibility. What would it be like to have to rely on written messages for memories of the day before? How would one decide what was important to record? “I wonder if he knows how to get out—”

“—of Rumbard but forgot.”

She moved over to the table and climbed up to examine the ingredients. “The spell is such that the children never get past six and don’t remember enough to learn from mistakes and mature.”

Bealomondore continued to read the notes as he toured the kitchen. “And Old One doesn’t remember details, so he can’t plan to escape.”

“That’s probably why he doesn’t leave the library.”

Bealomondore put his finger on one of the notes and then turned to look out the window. From this spot he could see the labyrinth of city streets beyond the jumble of a garden. “He’s afraid he wouldn’t remember how to get back.”

“Yes, and no notes to help him.” She thumped a bag of flour and saw a fine puff of white powder escape the weave of burlap. “He has all the ingredients. Shall we begin?”

Bealomondore nodded and climbed the wooden chair. “I have the feeling that if we could put the things we know together like we combine these ingredients, we might have a solution to our problem.”

“That sounds optimistic.”

“I’m hoping I am not being too optimistic.” He paused. “Wulder provides.”

That puzzled her. What did that have to do with daggarts or escaping? “I don’t—”

“From the Tomes, ‘All things are provided but not all work is done.’ ”

“So we have to provide the labor?”

He maneuvered onto the seat and stood beside her. “Exactly, so we can share the satisfaction.”

“Do you think we’ll ever get the right clues put together in the right way?”

He winked. “As sure as we’re going to make the best daggarts this city has ever seen.”

Old One came out of his room just as Ellie and Bealomondore prepared the first baking sheet to go into the oven. He did a double take and stood for a moment with a belligerent look on his face, but then his eyes fell on the daggarts, shaped and ready to be baked.

“I’ll put that in for you,” he said. “My things are smaller than the furnishings in most of the houses. But still, the oven door would be hard to handle. Most everything in this room came from Amara, on the ship that brought us to Chiril.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows and grinned at Bealomondore. Maybe they were finally going to get some history out of the urohm. Orli flew to the windowsill and looked out.

Old One slipped the daggart sheet into the oven and closed the door. He then moved around the room looking at his notes while trying not to look like he was looking at his notes. Bealomondore and Ellie busied themselves with preparing the next batch in order to look like they did not notice that he was looking at his notes.

The old gentleman eventually sat down at the table, dug a spoon into the bowl of dough and commenced nibbling the gooey concoction. Between bites he asked Ellie, “Is your goat a nanny or billy?”

“Billy.”

“Shame. Goat milk is good. Goat cheese is better.”