explosion of tiny lights around her. The air pressed in all around. She could not breathe.
Only a second.
She repeated the words several times. But only a second was a second too long.
8
R EGIDOR
Wailing. Long, loud moans. Sobs.
A hiss vibrated in the air. “Sh! Sh! Sh!”
Kale tried to open her eyes. She wanted to protest.
It’s not me. I’m not crying. Don’t shush. I want to sleep.
Crying. Soft, muffled whines. Sobs.
“Blasted, caterwauling beast! Go for a walk.”
Metta sang sweet songs. The melodies soothed Kale’s raw nerves.
The bawling subsided to gentle weeping.
Shivers racked Kale’s body.
“Ah! That’s the end of it now. She’ll live.” Wizard Fenworth’s voice crackled next to her ear.
Another blanket covered her shaking body. Kind hands wiped perspiration from her brow.
“Get that sniffling, whining creature out of here!”
She smiled. Fenworth was crotchety indeed.
Kale did not want to open her eyes. She knew she could, but it felt wonderful to just lie on the soft cushions.
I’m in Fenworth’s castle, and I’m safe.
She could smell the woody fragrance of the walls and floor and ceiling. She’d been in this castle before. A tangle of massive, hollow trees composed the wizard’s castle. Large limbs encompassed hallways leading from tree to tree. In each towering tree, rooms stacked one on top of another, each slightly smaller than the one below. Circular stairs carved out of wood spiraled up through each room.
Fenworth owned a world-famous library. More rooms held books than beds. Pillows stuffed in niches and comfortable chairs scattered throughout each room offered abundant places to curl up and read. The beds were either hammocks hanging from the walls or rowboatlike frames made of what looked like gnarled roots. Colorful cushions filled these knobby platforms to the brim.
Kale breathed deeply, relishing the earthy odor and knowing that when she did open her eyes, she was as likely to see a fox or an owl as a person in the room.
Gymn snuggled on the pillow with his chin resting on her shoulder. His healing powers flowed through her. Only a comfortable feeling of laziness kept her in bed. Vaguely wondering how long she’d been ill, she stretched her legs out straight and then rolled onto her side. Gymn shifted with her.
Metta sang. Her voice energized the air in the room. As always, the dragon sang in syllables with no recognizable words. A ripple of music touched Kale as gently as a mother’s loving hand. She could imagine the mother she’d never known stroking her cheek, teasing her to awaken.
Even without lyrics, the cheery melodies echoed through her thoughts, taking away some of her lethargy. She pulled her mind out of a pleasant drifting and puzzled over Metta’s song.
What is that tune?
She remembered one phrase:
monkey tree.
And then a few lines:
climbing and jumping and scrambling around.
They flip and flop
and skip and stop,
but ne-ver touch the ground.
Da-dee-da-da
dee-da-dee-da-dee,
orange and purple monkeys in the monkey tree.
What are the words for the da-dee-da-da part?
Kale furrowed her brow and concentrated on her surroundings. Something was not exactly as she expected it to be in Fenworth’s domicile. She shifted slightly on the bedding and sighed.
Someone held her hand. Small fingers lightly clasped her palm. Toopka? No, the hand was too big for the tiny doneel and too small to be Librettowit’s or Wizard Fenworth’s. Too rough to be her friend Leetu Bends’s hand. Too scaly to be Bardon. Scaly?
Kale’s eyes flew open.
A diminutive creature, a little bigger than Toopka, sat beside her on the bed, peering at her with impatience. His trousered legs were crossed, and his pointy toes wiggled restlessly on his bare feet.
He wore a tan linen shirt, open at the neck and showing a pale blue, scaly chest. His chin jutted out a bit more than an o’rant’s, and his wide mouth definitely sported
Only a second.
She repeated the words several times. But only a second was a second too long.
8
R EGIDOR
Wailing. Long, loud moans. Sobs.
A hiss vibrated in the air. “Sh! Sh! Sh!”
Kale tried to open her eyes. She wanted to protest.
It’s not me. I’m not crying. Don’t shush. I want to sleep.
Crying. Soft, muffled whines. Sobs.
“Blasted, caterwauling beast! Go for a walk.”
Metta sang sweet songs. The melodies soothed Kale’s raw nerves.
The bawling subsided to gentle weeping.
Shivers racked Kale’s body.
“Ah! That’s the end of it now. She’ll live.” Wizard Fenworth’s voice crackled next to her ear.
Another blanket covered her shaking body. Kind hands wiped perspiration from her brow.
“Get that sniffling, whining creature out of here!”
She smiled. Fenworth was crotchety indeed.
Kale did not want to open her eyes. She knew she could, but it felt wonderful to just lie on the soft cushions.
I’m in Fenworth’s castle, and I’m safe.
She could smell the woody fragrance of the walls and floor and ceiling. She’d been in this castle before. A tangle of massive, hollow trees composed the wizard’s castle. Large limbs encompassed hallways leading from tree to tree. In each towering tree, rooms stacked one on top of another, each slightly smaller than the one below. Circular stairs carved out of wood spiraled up through each room.
Fenworth owned a world-famous library. More rooms held books than beds. Pillows stuffed in niches and comfortable chairs scattered throughout each room offered abundant places to curl up and read. The beds were either hammocks hanging from the walls or rowboatlike frames made of what looked like gnarled roots. Colorful cushions filled these knobby platforms to the brim.
Kale breathed deeply, relishing the earthy odor and knowing that when she did open her eyes, she was as likely to see a fox or an owl as a person in the room.
Gymn snuggled on the pillow with his chin resting on her shoulder. His healing powers flowed through her. Only a comfortable feeling of laziness kept her in bed. Vaguely wondering how long she’d been ill, she stretched her legs out straight and then rolled onto her side. Gymn shifted with her.
Metta sang. Her voice energized the air in the room. As always, the dragon sang in syllables with no recognizable words. A ripple of music touched Kale as gently as a mother’s loving hand. She could imagine the mother she’d never known stroking her cheek, teasing her to awaken.
Even without lyrics, the cheery melodies echoed through her thoughts, taking away some of her lethargy. She pulled her mind out of a pleasant drifting and puzzled over Metta’s song.
What is that tune?
She remembered one phrase:
monkey tree.
And then a few lines:
climbing and jumping and scrambling around.
They flip and flop
and skip and stop,
but ne-ver touch the ground.
Da-dee-da-da
dee-da-dee-da-dee,
orange and purple monkeys in the monkey tree.
What are the words for the da-dee-da-da part?
Kale furrowed her brow and concentrated on her surroundings. Something was not exactly as she expected it to be in Fenworth’s domicile. She shifted slightly on the bedding and sighed.
Someone held her hand. Small fingers lightly clasped her palm. Toopka? No, the hand was too big for the tiny doneel and too small to be Librettowit’s or Wizard Fenworth’s. Too rough to be her friend Leetu Bends’s hand. Too scaly to be Bardon. Scaly?
Kale’s eyes flew open.
A diminutive creature, a little bigger than Toopka, sat beside her on the bed, peering at her with impatience. His trousered legs were crossed, and his pointy toes wiggled restlessly on his bare feet.
He wore a tan linen shirt, open at the neck and showing a pale blue, scaly chest. His chin jutted out a bit more than an o’rant’s, and his wide mouth definitely sported
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