Dragons of the Valley by Donita K. Paul

Author:Donita K. Paul
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780307459114
Publisher: The Doubleday Religious Publishing Group
Published: 2010-09-21T10:00:00+00:00

The pretty day would lure the lady from the inn. Odidoddex’s chief of tactics sat on a bench in front of the barbershop. He clutched a newspaper but didn’t read. The front of the inn held his interest. He waited for Lady Peg.

She often walked, sometimes with her husband and sometimes with the parrot. And sometimes alone.

Groddenmitersay hoped today she would happen to be alone. He wanted to talk to her. Typically it was the female in a group who could be easily confused and maneuvered. A little conversation, and he would have information concerning the real purpose of the threesome’s long stay in this obscure village.

He watched the open door at the inn. A flash of color signaled that the lady in question stood in the doorway. He recognized a dress he’d seen before. She had turned, possibly to speak to someone.

“Come on, Lady Peg,” whispered Groddenmitersay. “Take a stroll, but leave the others behind.”

In another moment, she stepped into the sunshine. The tumanhofer held his breath. Lady Peg pulled on her gloves and adjusted her hat, then proceeded down the street toward the village garden.

Groddenmitersay left his bench and took a path that would intersect Lady Peg’s. He pulled a dainty lace-edged handkerchief from his pocket. Allowing her to get a bit ahead of him, he then scurried to catch up.

“Madam?” he called. “Madam?”

Lady Peg stopped and turned, giving him a quizzical look.

He held out the handkerchief. “Did you drop this yesterday, Madam?”

She took it to examine. “What a fine piece of workmanship! My cousin does exquisite needlework like this.” She thrust the handkerchief into Groddenmitersay’s hand, turned, and walked away.

“But, Madam—”

Lady Peg faced him and raised one eyebrow.

“Forgive me,” said the tumanhofer. “I should introduce myself. I am Doremattris Groddenmitersay from Baardack.”

She nodded but did not give her name.

“I know I presume, but are you not the wife of the fascinating artist Verrin Schope?”

“Yes, I am, but I don’t know that I would call my husband fascinating. His art is fascinating, but he is more intriguing. The difference being that fascinating people fascinate one and intriguing people are more likely to intrigue. I daresay I find blooms fascinating because out of that tiny bud of color so many individual petals unfold. You know it is going to happen because it always does, but it is fascinating to watch all the same. However, my husband is intriguing because very often you don’t know what he is going to do next and you definitely don’t know why, even after he has done it and explained why.”

Groddenmitersay blinked as he tried to make sense of what she said. He had to engage her in conversation. A little flattery perhaps?

“Quite so, Lady Schope, quite so. How astute of you to define the ever-so-slight distinction between the two terms.” He held out the handkerchief once more. “May I return this to you? Since it is evidently your cousin’s work, I’m sure you don’t want to have mislaid it.”

“Oh, but I don’t own any of my cousin’s needlework.

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