The Vanishing Sculptor by Donita K. Paul Read Free Book Online Page B

three.
    A lean figure in voluminous robes twitched his hand in the air. “Lights, lights, a bit of starlight and moon glow.” The air in the room suddenly held bits of shining material giving off miniscule beams. One orb the size of a fist floated over the empty bed. It looked exactly like a small full moon, right down to the gray shadows along the face.
    In the light, Beccaroon recognized the third person as his missing friend. He opened his beak to speak, then clamped it shut. Had Verrin Schope returned in the company of friend or foe?
    “Oh dear, tut, tut,” said the old o’rant who produced the twinkling lights and miniature moon. He shook a finger at Junkit and Zabeth. “Behave and greet friendly visitors with some vestige of courtesy.”
    The dragons chittered and relaxed as if reassured by the gruff command.
    Beccaroon watched with narrowed eyes. Perhaps these were friendly visitors, perhaps not.
    The tall man gestured, and lunar moths escaped from his sleeve. The flimsy bits of pale gray fluttered about the room before following the moonbeams out the open window. The man seemed not to notice the insects and addressed the chittering dragons. “Much better. You have good manners, and I deeply regret that you are summarily ignored by most people. But of course, I am not most people. What is it, Librettowit?”
    He bent to listen to the shorter man’s interruption. “Harrumph!” He turned and bowed to the dragons. “My sincere apologies for startling you.” He gestured toward Tipper. “There’s the girl and a bird. This is the guardian, I take it. Pleased to meet you, Sir Beccaroon.”
    The parrot inclined his head but managed to pin Verrin Schope with a glare. His voice scratched the night air. “Welcome home, Verrin Schope. It’s been a long time.”
    The emerlindian spoke softly. “Unavoidable.”
    Beccaroon waited for more information, but his friend remained silent.
    As if the old o’rant could read Bec’s thoughts, he jumped into the lull in conversation. “Yes, exactly, explanations!” he said. “Tut, tut, oh dear. We’ve disturbed the natives.”
    Verrin Schope strode across the room and knelt beside his daughter. He gently touched her shoulder. “Tipper, wake up.”
    She stirred and sat up, directly into her father’s arms. He held her for a moment with his eyes closed, breathing deeply as if the scent of her replenished his soul. Beccaroon blinked his eyes and wondered at the love between them after the extended separation.
    After a long, quiet moment, Verrin Schope stood, taking his daughter by the hand and pulling her to his side. He beamed at the assembled company.
    “Gentlemen, this is Tipper, my daughter.” He gestured to the guests. “These esteemed scholars have aided me in returning to you. Wizard Fenworth and his librarian, Librettowit.”
    Tipper curtsied.
    Verrin Schope inclined his head toward the grand parrot. “And as you have guessed, this is Sir Beccaroon, a cherished friend of the family.”
    Librettowit and Wizard Fenworth bent at the waist, acknowledging the introduction.
    Beccaroon bowed. “My pleasure.”
    “Papa, the lights.” Tipper’s face reflected the wonder of the miniature night sky suspended in her room.
    “Fenworth is a renowned wizard in his country, Amara.”
    Tipper gasped. Her mouth dropped open, and she closed it with a snap. “That’s on the other side of the world. How—?”
    “Through a contraption they call a gateway.”
    “A gateway,” Beccaroon repeated the unfamiliar word. “Where is this gateway?”
    Verrin Schope rubbed his chin. “Actually the gateway is in Lady Peg’s closet.”
    “Mother’s closet?” Tipper glanced around the room, peering at each of the men. “You came through Mother’s closet?”
    Beccaroon watched the two strangers nod. The librarian’s face showed his embarrassment. The wizard shook leaves from his straggly gray hair.
    The parrot cocked his head and quickly analyzed his response to the situation.