Sir Dar laughed out loud. "Librettowit married that helpful little tumanhofer they rescued from Crim Cropper."

"Taylaminkadot! If I remember correctly, it was Taylaminkadot who rescued Kale and Toopka from the enemy camp."

"A very resourceful woman, a stellar cook, and an enthusiastic housekeeper. She is the bane of Wizard Fenworth's existence and the joy of his librarian's."

Bardon laughed out loud. As Fenworth's notable librarian, Librettowit had always complained. The tumanhofer did not believe his duties included cooking and dusting. Fenworth assumed they did. He also assumed Librettowit would wholeheartedly join any adventure, which the librarian resisted like a mule being taught to fly.

A hundred more questions tumbled into Squire Bardon's thoughts. How's Toopka? Dibl? All the minor dragons? Have any more been hatched? How's Toopka? Dibl? All the minor dragons? Have any more been hatched? It had been four months since his last letter from Kale. She'd hinted that Taylaminkadot flirted with Librettowit, but he had dismissed that revelation as a young girl's invention of romance in her rather isolated society. The urge to see and talk to Kale and the others surged strongly in the young squire's heart. Dar's voice interrupted him. It had been four months since his last letter from Kale. She'd hinted that Taylaminkadot flirted with Librettowit, but he had dismissed that revelation as a young girl's invention of romance in her rather isolated society. The urge to see and talk to Kale and the others surged strongly in the young squire's heart. Dar's voice interrupted him.

"This is a nasty business," the doneel said as he stood. "I'm glad you're to lead this expedition. If Paladin hadn't chosen you first, I would have. You've grown into one of my most reliable men."

Bardon thrust aside his personal inquiries and followed his mentor.

Sir Dar ushered him to the tall double doors of the chamber. Bardon gave a gentle push to one of the ornate panels, and it swung open.

"We'll dine in my blue room tonight," said Dar. "Privately, with only the adult members of your questing party. You'll find your room just as you left it. If you need anything, just ring."

Bardon nodded and walked out into the massive hall. Clumps of people stood in the hall. Always the hangers-on seemed to know exactly which room Dar occupied. If the doors were closed, implying he did not wish to be disturbed, they waited in the immediate vicinity. Bardon had little patience with these people. But Dar treated them well, with the same genteel courtesy and respect he extended to everyone.

Even me. I'm one of the ones Sir Dar treats with respect, though I don't deserve it. Why do I begrudge the grace that falls on these cadgers when I deserve no better and receive so much more?

Bardon nodded to people as he passed them. He saw the spark of curiosity in their eyes. They're wondering why I have returned so quickly. They're wondering why I have returned so quickly.

Then he saw it, a quick glance directly at his ears, accompanied by a start. The woman unfurled her fan, and from behind this small screen, whispered to another in her group. Bardon fought to keep his hand from smoothing the hair into place, hiding his points. I haven't used the pomade for a long time. In just a few weeks I forgot the necessity. I came immediately to find Sir Dar before washing away my travel dirt and making myself presentable. But their stares are not for my disheveled appearance. It's my ears that draw their snickers. I haven't used the pomade for a long time. In just a few weeks I forgot the necessity. I came immediately to find Sir Dar before washing away my travel dirt and making myself presentable. But their stares are not for my disheveled appearance. It's my ears that draw their snickers.

A buzz followed him, and he deliberately kept his pace even and unhurried. Hot anger roiled in his chest. So I was not wrong after all. It is not only petty rich boys in a secluded private school who torment those who are different. So I was not wrong after all. It is not only petty rich boys in a secluded private school who torment those who are different.

Sir Dar manages to treat them with civility. I shall do as well as Greer does under similar circumstances and promise not to eat them.

.29.

THE LOVELY N'RAE Squire Bardon traversed the length of the castle, using corridors he had roamed for much of the three years he spent under Sir Dar's tutelage. During the long walk, he found an empty room and ducked inside. In the privacy of this unused classroom, he ran his fingers through his hair, covering his ears. He wet his fingers from a pitcher of water on the master's desk, then patted the hair down in the style he had abandoned since leaving for his sabbatical.

With a chary look both ways, he reentered the corridor. Deserted halls attested that classes had ended for the day. As he hurried through the wing that housed a small college, Scribe Moran appeared out of a classroom and headed his way.

Great! I haven't thought of a principle all day. I couldn't run through a girder exercise right now if I tried. I haven't bothered to support each action with a principle for weeks.

"Bardon!" said Scribe Moran with surprise. "I didn't know you had returned. You've made your decision so soon? Odd, I would have thought you were one to take the entire year."

"I have not started my sabbatical, Master." Bardon stopped beside the tumanhofer scholar. "I ran across two women who needed assistance. We are on a quest."

"Ah," said the short, round man as he stroked his gray beard. "And you have come to enlist Sir Dar?"

"That would have been convenient, but no, I somehow ended up with a ragtag bunch of orphans and needed a place of sanctuary for them."

"You've found that sanctuary with Sir Dar?"

"Yes, Master."

"And your quest?"

"We continue tomorrow."

The tumanhofer scribe patted Bardon's arm. "You say you haven't started your sabbatical. I wouldn't be so sure of that, my boy."

He chuckled, bent his head, and resumed his shuffle down the corridor.

Now, what did that mean? A sabbatical is supposed to be a time of reflection. I certainly haven't had time to think about what I'm going to do with my life. At least he didn't ask me to run through today's girder.

Bardon went to his room in a foul mood, bathed, dressed, and groomed his hair. Before he ventured out again, he looked in the mirror and made sure his hair covered his ears.

Imagine Librettowit getting married. His face relaxed. His face relaxed. And Dar may be able to reach Regidor and send him to join us. And Dar may be able to reach Regidor and send him to join us. He smiled. He smiled. And Kale is beautiful and talented. I knew that. And Kale is beautiful and talented. I knew that. His lips parted, and his eyes turned into half moons with laugh wrinkles radiating out. His lips parted, and his eyes turned into half moons with laugh wrinkles radiating out.

He nodded to the image in the mirror and left his room. He quickened his step when he finally reached the dining suites. Turning a corner, he nearly ran into a woman being escorted by a courtier.

"Excuse me." He stepped to the side.

"Bardon," the lovely young emerlindian said, "you're going the wrong way."

The squire looked sharply at the couple. The courtier he knew as Trum Aspect, an o'rant dignitary promoting trade with the southern continent. The young lady, he had never- "N'Rae?"

She smiled, let go of her escort's arm, and twirled. "Isn't it gorgeous?"

Her dress of light blue silk swirled around her and settled again in soft folds starting from a high waist and ending with the hem brushing the toes of satin slippers. The bodice glimmered with tiny blue gems. Her white-blond hair swept up under an elaborate headdress with two sheer scarves draped from the crown. She wore long, white gloves and carried a painted fan. A lace shawl, fringed and beaded, covered her bare shoulders.

"The nicest lady came to my room and helped me dress," she said. "Her name was Faye."

Bardon let his eyes drift over her attire and then gazed at her face. Her eyes sparkled, her smile invited him to join her enthusiasm, her entire being spoke of elegance and beauty. He shifted his gaze to the man beside her and then back to N'Rae.

"You look extremely good tonight. But I'm not going the wrong way."

"Oh, but you are. Trum is taking me to the blue room. I'm to meet Grandmother there."

Squire Bardon looked back at the young o'rant. "He is?"

N'Rae resettled the shawl on her shoulders, not looking at either young man. "Well, of course he is. Why are you being such a dolt?"

Bardon grinned as he took her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow. "Now, that sounds like the N'Rae I know, even though you look like a princess instead of my comrade."

N'Rae gasped. "Am I really your comrade, Bardon? Truly?"

"Indeed. We take up our quest tomorrow." He nodded at the courtier. "I'll escort her the rest of the way, Master Aspect."

The young man nodded and stepped back. Bardon noted the overly correct stiffness that hid the young man's anger. And that N'Rae was totally oblivious to having been in the company of a cad.

"Thank you, Trum," N'Rae called softly after the departing suitor. "I enjoyed our talk."

"As did I, fair lady."

Bardon tugged gently and started them down the hall.

N'Rae shook her head. "But this is the wrong way, Bardon."

"I lived here for three years, N'Rae." He winked at her. "This is a shortcut."

They passed two doors, turned down a hallway, and entered the first room on the right, stopping in the doorway to survey the scene. The other guests had already arrived. Dinnerware gleamed on the long table. Scrumptious smells of wonderful delicacies filled the air.

"Where was he taking me?" asked N'Rae.

"Probably just for a long, roundabout walk in order to spend time with the most beautiful woman at court this evening."

She squinted at him with a crease across her brow. "Does a pretty dress really make that much of a difference?"

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "You are a charming young thing and shall have to guard against young men who would love to steal from that beauty."

"How could one steal from beauty?"

"By taking what doesn't belong to them. By encroaching on your youth." He saw the bemusement on her face.

He shook his head and screwed up his mouth. "N'Rae, in plain words, unscrupulous men will want to filch a kiss and more from you. This would give them great physical pleasure and, for some of them, the satisfaction of a conquest as if you were no more than a hunting trophy. You would have lost something that could not be replaced. Your beauty would be less pure."

N'Rae cocked her head. "Does that mean that I can never kiss and cuddle?"

"When you choose a man who will be your life partner, then each kiss accentuates your beauty instead of diminishing it."

A look of mischief came to her eye, and a smile quivered on her lips. "You give sage advice for a bachelor, Bardon."

Bardon felt heat creeping up his neck. He cleared his throat. "It is written in the Tomes of Wulder, N'Rae. I have studied the Tomes extensively."

"Have you ever stolen beauty?"

"No, I have not."

Granny Kye approached them. The basket on her arm looked out of place with the brightly colored robes layered over a straight white tunic. The floating material of the outer garments billowed as she walked. Bardon suspected she couldn't decide which color appealed to her most and so put them all on, one on top of the other.

"We're going to close the doors now that you're here," she said. "Jue Seeno is to eat with us, and the servants are not allowed in the room. She's a bit nervous, as you can imagine."

She handed N'Rae the basket. "Bardon, Mistress Seeno wants you to sit next to 'that tumanhofer' and keep him distracted. Steer him out of any conversation dealing with the minnekens."

He leaned over the little creature's traveling abode. "Yes, Mistress."

Her high-pitched answer could be heard clearly through the woven reeds. "Don't you get smart with me, boy."

When they sat for the dinner, Sir Dar gave thanks to Wulder, ending with "By Your might and wisdom, may we live and breathe."

"Prejudice, that's what it is," said the tumanhofer after several helpings.

"I beg your pardon, Bromptotterpindosset," said Bardon. "I don't know of what you speak."

The mapmaker tilted his head toward Jue Seeno's small table and chair sitting among big tureens of soup, baskets of rolls, and platters of meat.

"She's prejudiced against tumanhofers. Thinks we have no discretion."

"I believe she is worried for the privacy of her people."

"Humph!"

The tumanhofer's grunt reminded Bardon of Wizard Fenworth.

Bromptotterpindosset chewed and swallowed, his fork already stabbing into another chunk of meat. "Did you know there is no foundation for prejudice in the Tomes?" He waved the fork for emphasis.

Bardon thought for a moment. "I haven't pursued that concept in any study I've done."

"Well, there isn't. I've studied Wulder's Tomes as well as other religions of the world."

He nodded. I was supposed to steer Bromp away from talk of the minnekens. I think he has done it himself. But I'm not sure exactly what we are talking about now. I was supposed to steer Bromp away from talk of the minnekens. I think he has done it himself. But I'm not sure exactly what we are talking about now.

The tumanhofer pointed to Bardon's other side, where N'Rae sat. "Your little emerlindian is about to burst into tears."

The squire turned abruptly and caught N'Rae dabbing at her eyes with the napkin.

"What's wrong?"

"Everything," she answered in a small, pitiful voice. "I shouldn't be enjoying this fancy meal and fine clothes and even music coming from somewhere. Where is the music coming from?"

Bardon waved a hand toward one of the walls where the ornate paneling hid a small chamber. "There are musicians behind that false wall."

N'Rae's face took on the expression of a startled deer. She peered at the panel and then at Jue Seeno. "They can't see her, can they? She would be so upset."

"No, there's a black cloth backing the open work of the carving. The sound can penetrate, but the room here is still private."

The girl relaxed but still looked miserable. Another tear formed in the corner of her eye.

Bardon patted her hand. "Tell me, what's wrong?"

"We'll never get to the fortress where my father is prisoner. At this rate, the Wizards' Plume will pass under the Eye of the North long before we even cross the border into the Northern Reach."

"We'll make better time riding dragons, and we leave early tomorrow. Do not give up hope, N'Rae."

She sniffed and smiled wanly. "It's just that suddenly I felt so guilty, Bardon. I was so happy with the dress and this beautiful place. The pleasure of it all seemed wrong somehow."

"In the first Tome, Wulder says, 'Taste now and imagine. For this pleasure is as a grain of salt to what I have prepared for you who follow Me.'"

"So it's not wrong to enjoy this."

"Not in the least."